I've received my first very dissatisfied customer of bloggery. Mr. Graham was not too happy about my remarks concerning why I would not vote for him for county attorney. I think at the end of our conversation we came to a civilized agreement to disagree. He did ask me a very pertinent question, and that was why did I write the piece in the first place. At the time I told him just because I like for other people to know my opinions, but in reflection over the weekend, I remembered that I wrote the piece mostly to defend myself against the accusations by the man from Wolfe County that we had no sense of fairness to out-of-towners in Powell County.

I went home a little early today and when I got home I saw the Robin Williams movie The Final Cut. It's a pretty good film and I'm not going to discuss it at length, except to say that it caused me to begin to think about my own memories. I am not usually one given to reminiscence. I suppose I always thought that that was soemthing to be done with friends and family who shared the experiences you remember and discuss. I thought that there will be plenty of time to remember alone when I am old, and have no one else to share new experiences with, or lack the will to do create new experiences. When I look back however, I realize now that my memories have taken on more poignance. My memories reminded me of emotions I hadn't felt in a long time. It was almost as if I was feeling those emotions again. Mostly I am a simple creature. There are things that I want to do. There are people I enjoy being with. There are things that I like to experience. I have never defined myself by what has gone before. I always assumed that what I had experiences in the past had shaped who I was, without much reflection being necessary. I think I am beginning to realize now, however, that to truly learn from my experience, it is necessary that I examine it. To learn who I am, I must re-examine who I have been, and in so doing, I might be able to shape my experiences so as to shape who I might become. Up until now, I've tried very hard to raise my head up above the masses, to try to shed my anonymity, and I suspect that perhaps I will still try. Recognition for one's contribution to society is important, but what I've come to realize is that it isn't so much recognition in the mind of the masses that is important, as much as fulfillment in oneself, and to be remembered fondly by those who lives you touch more directly.

Speaking of memories, how many memories do we have? Back at the beginning of my memory, things seem pretty sparse. I remember things mostly in flshes. I don't remember exact conversations very well. I don't remember how things tie together all that well. I mostly remember flashes of what I saw, maybe a few words I heard. Scientists say that humans remember smells very well, but I'm not too sure about that. Most of the smells I remember the best, other than the smell of the inside of a tobacco barn, involve one woman or another, and whatever secnt she chose as her signature. I still wish I knew many of those exact brands of perfume, so that I could re-invigorate my memory by sniffing their exact artificial smell again. My very first memory, that still exists where I can get at it, is the memory of wondering when my mother would get back from the hospital. She was there with my brother, who was in the process of being born. I was just shy of three of course. From there until the next one is hardly any time at all. I looked through the hospital window at my mother and my new baby brother. After that, things are hazy for a while. I remember meeting my best friend from early elementary school, Brian Wade. I remember that I was standing on the edge of my yard and he was on the edge of his across a small creek, and we greeted each other. I remember a trip or two down the hill and the driveway on my Big Wheel. I remember trying to find the right bus the first day of kindergarten. Brian was very worried. I remember sneaking a peak up the dress of Darlene, my classmate and bus driver's daughter, during naptime, but time has taken her last name from me. It's also taken the memory of what I saw, but that may be due to complete misunderstanding. I remember playing with wooden blocks and I remember learning to tie my shoes. I remember messing up an assignment and correcting it and not liking it very much. How many memories is that up through the beginning of first grade? Not very many surely. I haven't reinforced them over the years I'm afraid. They start coming a little faster after that. Maybe I need to sit down sometime and remember all the important things that have happened to me. How long would that take? Maybe I'm afraid I've lost a few that should have been important.