Friday, November 16, 2012

“One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.” - Antonio Porchia

I went to a conference today and like most conferences there was a person who got on stage in between speakers to make introductions (and in this case tell jokes to pass the time). I was sitting in the middle of the second row so I had a clear view of the stage. A weird feeling came over me while listening to this man speak.

A remote area of my mind that had tucked away the memory, sight, and sound of my grandpa was being activated. The same white hair, same voice, same accent (which was quite out of place at this event), and same dry and quirky sense of humor.

Maybe that is a normal part of the human brain - to look for connections and familiarity in everyday objects and people - or maybe that's just a part of my brain.


I recently connected with a relative that I never knew existed. Initially I told her I didn't think I had a photo of the person who links our trees together. A few days ago I scrolled through my picasa album and oddly...there was a photo of a baby I didn't recognize. A scan of the back of this photo revealed my grandfather's handwriting and the name of this person. I sent out the photo and it was quite a 'warm fuzzy' feeling to read that she immediately saw a resemblance to her nephew.

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