Co-Opted

Memory is such an unreliable thing. When the idea that we could have false memories took hold a couple of decades ago, Roger and I used to joke that we'd implant positive false memories in our future children. "Don't you remember the time you met Mickey Mouse at Disneyland?"

Our bookstore once hosted a very famous children's book author and illustrator who lived in New England. She was visiting relatives in Salt Lake City and graciously offered to do a signing for us.

I drove up to Salt Lake to pick her up. On our drive back to Springville, we passed Provo and the campus of BYU. I described how stunning it was to go to college at the foot of towering rocky mountains after growing up in the gentle hills of Massachusetts. My whole freshman year I felt like I was at a resort, with a spectacular view out my dorm window. We even had tennis courts and swimming pools!

After the signing, Roger and Jack joined us for the ride back to Salt Lake. As we passed the BYU campus, this lovely woman started telling Roger about her first visit to BYU to give an address at a children's literature symposium. As a New Englander, she was stunned by the towering rocky mountains and felt like she was at a resort, with spectacular views and tennis courts and swimming pools.

I sat in the backseat of the car listening to the same words I had spoken hours earlier coming out of her mouth. I suppose her experience had been very similar to mine. But still. She had co-opted my memory!

My memory, by the way, is particularly dodgy. That's one of the reasons I want to take this journey, to get some experiences down in writing before I completely lose track of them. Please feel free to correct me if you think I'm making something up. Or co-opting your memory.