I remember / je me souviens
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For those limbic bursts of nostalgia, invented by Proust, miniaturized by Nicholson Baker, and freeze-dried by Joe Brainard in his I remember and by Georges Perec in his Je me souviens.

But there are no fractions, the world is an integer
Like us, and like us it can neither stand wholly apart nor disappear.
When one is young it seems like a very strange and safe place,
But now that I have changed it feels merely odd, cold
And full of interest.
          --John Ashbery, "A Wave"

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


Tuesday, April 26, 2011
I remember that my uptown grandmother used Roman numerals for the month when she dated letters and checks: 26 IV '11, e.g. I remember learning that you're not supposed to draw parallel lines linking Roman numerals together, at top and at bottom, though that's how my mother taught me to do them, and how my grandmother did them.


posted by William 12:37 PM
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Thursday, April 14, 2011
I remember the gluey, wood-shaved smell of Frameworks. I remember the little pieces of glue-paper in paper cups, and the spray bottles, and the low piles of paper towels on the cardboard-covered tables. (My father didn't like those paper towels; he only used newspaper to clean his glass.) I remember picking staples and tacks out of the carpet, though I was told repeatedly not to play with sharp things. I remember the colorful magnetic corners on the wall, and the amazing array of mats: so many colors, but my father never chose anything bright. He built somber (hindsight says tasteful) wooden frames, sometimes gold or silver, and I remember him measuring and remeasuring, and putting in his orders at the counter at the back of the store (which one? they're all conflated). He was an expert frame-builder--he never had to ask for help. He was friends with the people who worked there, especially with Barbara, who had a horse and a house she shared with her sister. I remember how bleak and grey Mass Ave always seemed, and the sticker (stationery?) store that was only a few doors down from--the second location? When we were bigger, we were allowed to go there on our own and buy stickers with our own money.


posted by Rosasharn 1:02 PM
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Wednesday, April 13, 2011
I remember envying kids who could swing easily across monkey bars. I could manage it (effortfully) in kindergarten, but got progressively worse as I grew older, so by the time I was about ten years old, I'd give up after one or two bars. I remember that because a boy around my age in the Bowring Club playground challenged me to an obstacle course race that included swinging across the monkey bars that connected one slide to another. I was extremely embarrassed when I couldn't even complete the race.

I remember my father helping me do pull-ups on the same monkey bars. While I was trying (and not doing very well), a lady came up to me and said I shouldn't do it because it would develop my biceps, which would be unattractive on a girl. I think this motivated me to try harder.

I remember accompanying my brother to the playground whenever my family went to Bowring Club, well after I outgrew the slides and swings. I secretly enjoyed playing on them, although I pretended I was only there to watch over my brother.



posted by sravana 12:15 AM
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Saturday, April 09, 2011
I remember my uptown grandmother telling me to shake the sand out of my shoes when we'd been to the sandbox. I didn't know I had sand in my shoes! She did though, and I saw that she was right as she tilted my shoes over the toilet. The whole thing was really neat.


posted by William 9:32 AM
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Thursday, April 07, 2011
I remember the wooden cuckoo clock that someone (who?) got us from Switzerland. Switzerland! My brother and I were in love with it, and it was put in our room. But it got annoying quickly, not just the frequent sounds, but because it had to be wound up every 12 hours, and the pendulum had a tendency to get stuck. Then, we had to adjust the time, and the cuckoo would pop out every time it hit the hour as we were turning the hands.


posted by sravana 1:14 PM
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Tuesday, April 05, 2011
I remember the little kid who lived in the apartment above us charging around his house for what seemed hours at a time, making the light fixture in the hallway rattle annoyingly every time he crossed over it.


posted by William 9:01 AM
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Sunday, April 03, 2011
I remember my friend R's older brother, D. I stayed at R's house many times for Shabbat. D was sly: he caught me out watermeloning the words to the Bentsching (Grace after Meals); he made the most of R's moods (she probably got sick of me sometimes) and would invite me to play Sorry or Chutes and Ladders in his room when she got tetchy; and he was the only boy I can remember who propositioned me with the traditional "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours" (I didn't). I liked him fine, most when we hung out with his friends. Their jokes flew so quickly, and they teased without meanness. I remember wishing I had an older brother.


posted by Rosasharn 11:47 PM
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