On Memories

"What are you doing today that is worthy of a memory?"

Each week a local Rabbi asks himself this question. It is one of a list of five that is posted to his refrigerator and this morning I asked it of my students. We are in the midst of reading Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie, and many of the memories the 13 year-old protagonist narrator, Kambili, shares are negative.

We create many memories in our lives, but we also neglect to remember things. Some of the memories we recall are positive, while others are not. Some are reignited by smells, songs, places, or people...but they are mysterious. And memories fade. 

But what if we approached each day with a goal of creating a memory, either for ourselves or for someone else? What if our goal was to make memory positive? What if we tried to live in such a way that was worthy of creating positive memories for those around us?

My students acknowledged that their memories of second grade were littered with embarrassment, joy, and humor...but that they really only had five or six STRONG memories. As someone more than twice the age of my students, I have even fewer. Yet where do these memories go? How do we make them stay?

My students went on to discuss how we can make negative memories that will likely stay with us forever ("If I make a bad decision," said one student, "I'll probably remember it, whether I'm found out or not...the emotion will just be that strong."). But taking the time to speak into someone's life, to compliment someone, or to go out of one's way to touch the life of another (even if it's a note thanking the postal worker for delivering your mail each day), could be lifelong. My students understood this, underSTAND this...and the timing with a weekend celebrating Dr. King's beautiful dream feels fitting.

I still remember the autumn day I went for a run as a fourteen year old and encountered an elderly man whose truck had died at the edge of a logging road where he'd been hunting. I stopped and asked how I could help. This was in the day before cell phones, so he confessed that he'd probably just walk four miles home and return with his wife and their second car to jumpstart the vehicle. Unabashedly optimistic, I suggested that I run and tell her about the predicament instead. The man gave me directions and I took off at a quick trot. I had never run more than three miles in my life, but ran over eight that day. I will never forget the way it felt to fall asleep that night, tired in body and full in spirit.

Those are the memories we have control over...we don't need Thursdays to dissolve into Fridays, or winter to slowly become spring...opportunities to make today memorable in the future history of our lives are everywhere. We won't remember every day of our lives, but we can do our best to ensure that somebody does. We can be important, nameless characters in other people's stories, too. As teachers, this isn't just a possibility, it's a responsibility.