long-term memory

Sharing the Love

James S Russell2 Comments

Video Chats Long term memories

Kris Kristofferson

Lynne called. She was quiet until saying, “She’s nice and I don’t want to commit and not follow through. I feel like I fit in. It took a while.”
I agreed she is nice (I had no idea who she was talking about). “But you always follow through. She helps you walk. You get a good sleep. You eat good food. You ride your bike. You listen to music. You always follow through.”
She agreed and I piled it on. “You always followed through in high school. I was writing from your journals and letters today. You didn’t want us to buy a house on a hill because it was too difficult to walk home from school. We bought the house anyway, and you bought a scooter you hid in your friend’s garage, so you could drive up. You, your friends, and your brother drove all over town. I never knew.”

She laughed. I added another story. “You felt the chemistry brewing with a causal boyfriend after talking with him throughout a ballgame on a date with a different boyfriend, followed by a month of eye contacts, chats in the hallways, teasing from girlfriends. Finally, one day he told you to call him if you wanted to see a ballgame with him and his brother. That was your chance to find out if he was serious. You said, “Call me if you want me to go with you.”
“You knew he didn’t know your number. You waited. You prayed. Finally, he called. You knew, you knew, he would be your first love.”
Lynne smiled. “Yep.”
I piled it on some more. “Your good friend on the yearbook staff told me you were the one who organized work, because she was such a flake you felt you had to keep her on track.”
Lynne laughed but objected. “She was not a flake. She did a lot for us in the yearbook. We worked on copy together.”

We paused. “OK, Dad. I’m ready for bed. I love you.“

She calls and I’m there for her. I can tap into her joy to let laughter flow over us and rinse away fear for a while. I’m learning more intimately about her and loving more deeply as I learn. I’m learning more sympathetically about me and healing more deeply as we share. Being there is a balm for the years I was away.
I am living the lyrics of Kris Kristofferson’s song, Loving Her Was Easier: “Coming close together with a feeling that I’ve never known before in my time. Wiping out the traces of the people and the places I have been. Dreaming is as easy as believing it is never gonna end. Loving her is easier than anything I’ll ever do again.”

As Good As It Gets for Dad

James S Russell1 Comment

Fun activities

I interviewed Candy, a friend of Lynne’s about their time together at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation in 1996. I am grateful for her memories full of Lynne’s fun and professional skills. I sent her an image of an article about recruiting talent for the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation published in the Seattle Times on October 17, 1996 Titled, “Want to Work for Gates?” The front page was in a 11 x 17 picture frame with a photograph of recent hires when the foundation was rapidly expanding from an influx of donations. The frame was given to Lynne when she retired from the foundation to work as a special education teacher. The back of the frame was filled with farewells and signatures of her fellow workers.

Candy asked how to contact Lynne for a video chat. Lynne’s phone messages show Candy called later that afternoon at 1:27, 1:28, 1:35 and 1:35. Lynne  missed each of those calls. Candy’s persistent. She called the next day at 3:06 pm and missed  her, and finally connected at 4:02 pm for a 23 minute and 50 second phone call.

Candy sent me this email, which is how I discovered she’d dedicated herself to connect with Lynne while she still remembers:

“I talked to Lynne via video chat today.  It was so great.  She remembered me well and was really present and we reminisced about old times. I’ll call her once a week and told her she can call me at any time.

Once they open on the CV19 restrictions, I’ll do walks with her and go visit.

Thank you, thank you for this re-connection.  In gratitude, Candy.”

As Lynne’s dad, I’m unable to resurrect those intimate stories that still exist in the great majority of Lynne’s long term memory. I’m thrilled she can share good times in normal conversations with friends. I thanked Candy for her persistence I replied, “That’s as good as it gets for me right now. Thanks for letting me know.”

I asked it I could share this and she said, “Happy for you to do so.”

Resurrecting Memories from Friends

James S RussellLeave a comment

Fun activities.

Lynne on the far right in a butt race with South Eugene High School friends.

Facebook friends are resurrecting fond memories for Lynne. A friend I didn’t recognize commented that reading her posts meant a lot to her.  When I mentioned her name to Lynne, she paused, and said, “She’s a speech pathologist.” Pause. “She helped Henrik when he was in high school.”

That night I replied to her friend, “She remembers you as a speech pathologist, fondly, because you helped Henrik. For your information, he is in his junior year at WWU with a 3.6+ GPA with a major in communications. He’s taking journalism and research methods this summer.”  

Lynne lit up when I had news from Mary, a friend at South Eugene High School. They hadn’t seen each other for years before their 20th class reunion where they talked for hours. They’ve video chatted recently. She agreed to let me interview her.

Mary had photos of high school days at Christmas Parties and butt racing. Butt racing was one fun I missed during high school, so Mary showed me the picture of girlfriends sitting on the floor of a basement scooting on their butts to the opposite wall. That flashed memories for me because Lynne preferred scooting across the floor on her butt in her diaper by pushing off with one hand and then the other. She scooted so fast she refused to crawl. We set her down on her knees because we read crawling was important for developing body skills. She’d push onto her butt and take off. She crawled briefly walking was easier by then.

Lynne remembered when her classmates played an elaborate prank on their high school rival, Churchill, before a basketball tournament game. A boulder inside the campus was painted by Churchill students for various causes, so Mary and Lynne organized a midnight raid to paint the rock with SEHS purple before the game. Their tactical operations team successfully organized and executed the plan to scale the chain-link fence in paint clothes with paint cans and brushes, douse the rock in purple and escape back over the fence.  When they bought the paint, they added painter hats for each teammate. They wore the hats as they stood together and taunted the Churchill fans with cheers that undoubtedly created the essential energy necessary for SEHS to win with a last-minute shot.

Mary admitted she has tendencies to be a pack rat. She pulled memorabilia from boxes underneath her bed and sent photos, including her handwritten list of the 19 paint pranksters with a check mark by each name. As I read the names to Lynne she nodded or murmured, “Yep” at every name, except when she corrected me if I miss-pronounced the handwriting: “Jenni,” “Conklin,” “Ballin,”  She names brought extra comments: “He was way cool. I didn’t go out with him.” Why not?  “I was afraid.” Another:  “He was going to take me to the prom, but his dad wouldn’t let him.” Why? “Too late.”  Another: “He was always after me. I didn’t want to go out with him.”

I said, “You must have had quite a painting party.” Pause.

“That’s why they TP’d me.”

What?!  Our family was surprised by toilet paper draped all over our front yard and garage doors when we arrived home from a trip. Our three kids insisted it was a mystery to them. We never knew.   

Another FB friend teaches at Shoreline Public Schools. She commented, “I was in grad school with her at Seattle U. and adore her. I haven’t seen her in quite a while, but please tell her that JT says hello.”

When I mentioned her last name to Lynne, I fumbled her first name because I didn’t know it. Lynne smiled. “JT.” Pause. “That was nice.” Pause. “I’m so glad you’re doing this.”

I’m not ‘doing this’ – resurrecting memories of friends for Lynne to re-enjoy — her friends are doing it with us.