Memory=a constructive process
The Theft of Memory
Jonathan Kozol
This past Sunday was Father’s Day, where we remember our
fathers and honor them. The Theft of Memory is Kozol’s tribute to his father
who passed away in 2008 age 102 years. So roughly the son knew the father for
70-some years. That’s a long time. Yet towards the end, which seems reasonable,
the father’s memory began going. The subtitle of the book is: "Losing My Father
One Day at a Time."
This book will resonate with families dealing with the
effects of Alzheimer’s and dementia. Or even families dealing with loved ones
in general. It hasn’t been quite a year yet since I lost a dear friend, Fred
Burkhart and though his mind was always strong, there were times when because
of physical weakness or medications or even just approaching death, he would
zone out, go into his own world. And, I would think, this is how it is to lose
someone. Not quite, and not yet, but a foretaste of grief.
It is the long good-bye.
Kozol chronicles what it is like to lose a loved one and to
lose them also to an interior world of Alzheimer’s. And, because his father
Harry Kozol was a neurologist and psychologist, he also understood what it is
like to have memory gaps, those moments when you simply cannot remember how you
got somewhere or what you were just doing. He was a collaborator in the book,
in that he added to his son’s observations and as best he could offered insight
into the process of memory loss, an on-going evolution. He wrote notes about
what he was feeling/thinking before his diagnosis and during the decade
afterwards.
From the book:
I have had the opportunity to think a great deal since my
father’s death about the truthfulness of memory . . . Neuroscientists today
would argue that there isn’t any bank account, or storage box, in which our
memories are waiting for us to retrieve them—to “reach in and pull them
out”—but instead there is only the act of remembering—
“Memory is not a literal reproduction of the past,” writes
Daniel Schacter, the chair of the Department of Psychology at Harvard—it is
instead, “a constructive process” by means of which “bits and pieces of
information” are reassembled into a new reality.
This should help put the mind of the memoirist at ease.
“The notion that we re-create and, in the process, reinvent
some portions of our memories—”
That is why we can also substitute the word recollect for
remember. We are literally re-collecting what we have and hoping to rebuild the
tree fort of our childhood, youth, the early days of one’s marriage, yesterday.
The Theft of Memory is Kozol’s loving recollection of his
aged parents and how he sought to navigate the gaps in order to bring them into
their final days with a sense of dignity.
My father, Harold Feeback, at his writing desk, late 1940s while at Ohio State |
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