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 another thing that made the willow behind our house in Stormville different, but also helped define a group of grave older trees on the property: it would rain and we would have to stay inside; but then the sun would come out and when the grass dried, which it always did pretty quickly in the summer heat, we could go play. But the big trees with their brooding cavernous interiors would still be dripping, or would let a lot of water down in a gust of wind, as though they couldn't or wouldn't take part in the nimble change in weather. They were like my grandparents and their friends, old and dark people unaffected by the bright summer: tall and knowing and imperturbable

posted by william 11:00 AM
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