Sometimes I sense that to put real confidence in my memory I have to get to the end of all rememberings. That seems to say that I forego remembering. And now that strikes me as an accurate description of what it is to have confidence in one's memory.
          --Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason

I remember / je me souviens
I remember walking past my son and downtown grandmother as they sat at the table at our country house and played the card came "Tatch" (a yugoslavien(?) game which my grandmother played with me as a kid, and which I loved).
From across the room I smiled at them playing, but suddenly I got all choked up and had to hurry out so they wouldn't see I was crying. I KNEW that this was the last summer I'd see my grandmother. I KNEW that she wouldn't live the whole year till the next summer.
The next summer came and we boarded the plane to come over to the States, as usual. I remember feeling glad my intuition had been wrong, and that I'd see Granny again...

My father was waiting for us when we arrived at Kennedy. He had a solemn look on his face and pulled me aside as soon as I was within reach to tell me that Granny had died while we were en route...

I've always KNOWN certain things like that, and another time I KNEW was when Billy had his life threatening water-skiing accident. Our parents had to make the decision to fly him by helicopter to NY for surgery. I was about 13 and Granny and I stayed in the country. Looking back now I can see the degree of torment she tried to hide from me back then. I remember lying in bed and she stroking my hair to comfort me. I remember feeling that she didn't need to console me since I was sure he'd be ok. I said, "I KNOW he'll be fine". I must have conveyed the conviction I felt, because she asked, somewhat provoked, "How can you KNOW?" "I just KNOW". This soothed her.

posted by caroline 5:12 PM
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