Remembering That I Didn't Remember and a Little bit O' Imagination

This post is going to be a quick touch on two topics, the first being memory that has possibly been implanted then moving to an actual episodic memory that involves imagination. OK, so picture this, there is a blond slender 2-3 year old boy being carried by a woman with black permed out hair. The child is thrashing about and just looks completely freaked out screaming, "Help, Help, she's not my mommy!!!" The woman comely trys to leave the store to elevate the other shoppers of the crying kid.

I remember this event because I was the kid screaming. Well, I kind of remember this. OK, I remember the first time I heard this story about one of my experiences at Nordstrom's growing up. This story struck me as funny during our lecture on memory because I have no real recollection of the event, but have heard the story so many times that I can visually see things from the child's point of view. I can just picture the look on my mom's face as she takes me out of the store, I can smell the perfume that she would have been wearing at the time, etc...

Just like you said in class, after being told a story over and over you start to remember it. I don't doubt that this event happened or not, it seems like something I would have done (I'm actually kind of proud that I could string together such a meaning phrase at that age). It's just funny that I have such a vivid picture of the event. What really gets me are the questions that I ask myself when I think about it. Like when I described myself as a slender 2-3 year old. This part of the story just kind of happened a couple of years ago. No one told me that I was slender at the time I just kind of added it to the story. My question is, could the story be taking on a life of it's own, the addition of the perfume smell, and my mom's facial expression are examples of this, or is it possible that I have old memories creeping back to the surface when I remember/think about the event.

Well, part two of this blog starts out with my rabid love for the X-men comic book characters. Growing up I would spend summers with my cousins, either here in Oregon, Detroit Michigan, or Baton Rogue Louisiana. No matter where we were we "played" X-men. Each of us had a favorite character and would take on that persona (self as vehicle). I don't remember exactly how old I was at the time, but I'm thinking around 10 or so. Anyways we were at a River Rhythm's concert up in Albany.

Running jumping all over the place I ran smack into a classmate of mine. As I talked to her one of my cousins jumped from the bushes and said, "Lets go Gambit, I think Wolverine is in trouble", then he jumped back into the bushes and let out an agonizing scream like he was just attacked by something.

I remember Katie, just kind of looking at me and back to my cousin like we were frikin crazy. I can feel my embarrassed red face, hear the music, and smell the stands selling all sorts of foods. I can pick apart details just like I can when I think of the above mentioned story that has been implanted by others into my head. When I think of each event they both come up as a true memory. Yet I know for a fact that only the second is, because I remember the first time I heard the story of my calls for help.

What is it about our memories that make it impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't. I have such vivid images of both events I can see and smell, yet I question one of them. Kind of crazy how memories work for us.