Memory is a game. And the rules are different for everybody.
For some, memory is like an old-style slide carousel: Neat, orderly, each event painstakingly cataloged, waiting its turn to be retrieved and re-lived in Kodachrome.
For others, memory is like a flow-chart, with arrows connecting thoughts via multiple paths. Sketches drawn together to create a journey from beginning to end.
For still others, memory is more like a pinball machine, one thought ricocheting off another creating a colorful kaleidoscope of sights and sounds and feelings.
And, for a woeful few, memory is like an overflowing trash can, surrounded by the detritus of a life lived in full random-mode. The cherish-able is buried under the disposable.
When children learn the Memory card game they’re developing spatial skills that will serve them well later in life: riding a bike, locating ketchup in a crowded refrigerator, avoiding the nosey neighbor’s house on the way home from school, etc.
A Memory game for grown-ups requires those same skills, but adds the stressing factors of time-compression, a cacophony of external demands, regret, emotional baggage and the sheer volume of the minutiae that makes up decades of day-to-day existence. Add to that the annoyingly human trait of trying to make sense of it all and life as a dog has great appeal: The bowl is either full or it’s empty and escape is just a nap away!
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