Back to reality I don't have many fond childhood memories. At least not fond family oriented childhood memories. One of my favorites has always been a family outing to the City Park when I was very small. My family and I had dinner at one of the picnic tables near the lake closer to the Hager House side of the park. We had a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I remember wearing lime green plastic sunglasses. I remember chasing after a napkin that blew off the table. I remember the trees, the water, and the sun. But it didn't really happen. I went to the park this weekend with my mom and my brother's youngest step-daughter. My dad and my nephew came too. We took separate cars. I was watching the ducks fly off the water when I noticed the picnic tables across the lake. It brought back the memory so I asked my mom why we only picniced there once. She informed me that we never did and gave the following reasons why: When my brother was young, he wouldn't eat in public or anywhere where people could watch him eat, my mother dislikes picnics and would never had suggested having one at the duck shit filled City Park, and finally "we just didn't do that kind of thing." If I made up that memory, how can I tell what is real and what is not? It felt real. Are memories real because someone tells us they are? Because someone else can verify the story? This event wasn't a new memory. I didn't just happen to remember it suddenly. I've been thinking about this for years. How many other memories have I just made up? Are they just the good memories or the bad too? Did I want to have one of those "happy" families so bad that I imagined myself a part of one for an afternoon? Was it a dream that I twisted into my waking life? I'm not sure. posted by Beth 10:28 PM . . .
