Memoirous

Susan Sontag in a book of essays, Regarding the Pain of Others , writes about Collective Memory. She was referring to perhaps collective guilt surrounding the holocaust and how a nation with a strong collective memory also carries guilt. Many Americans have a collective memory of 9/11 coupled also with personal narratives about where they were that day and how it has impacted their life Nevertheless, most memories are singular—though a few are collective or work in tandem with others. I might have a memory, my own particular interpretation of a memory you have shared. My friend Hilde recollected to me that once she was running by the lake when out of the mist she saw the mast of a tall ship. It seemed immediately odd that it would be so close to the shore. A man on deck called out. The rest was confusing—he didn’t want to be rescued, he did want help. He didn’t want to leave his boat, but if the Coast Guard came they were responsible for saving only him and not the vessel....

I remember when this album came out. Like a powerhouse, it upended my life. I can’t even begin to translate the impact it had upon me. From that first strum of Edge’s guitar, from that very first note of the opening song “Where the Streets Have No Name” I am taken back to May 1987. I can’t remember any other album that was as anticipated as the new one from U2. But lately, it has become another marker: I think of Ed & Hilde. Of the crowd I hung out with, of any of my friends, they were counting down the days until the release of Joshua Tree . There used to be a Rose Records around the LBA (Lincoln, Belmont, Ashland) area about 2 miles from where we lived in Uptown. I say used to because I think it’s a mega-block Whole Foods now. Anyway, they stood in line to buy it. Maybe it was like one second after midnight. Remember those days? There must have been other things as well on their mind. They were only a week or two at the most away from getting married. Her family was ...

Hilde’s scar is 27 years old. She got that scar the day before my wedding. On our last run. Though it wasn’t our last run. It was my last run as a single lady. We have continued to run for 27 years. The day before my wedding we planned one hour. To run. There were so many things to do. Before my wedding. Somehow we knew things were gonna change and we needed one last run. We ran down Leland Street, past the graffiti and corner store that sold gin in pint bottles. Crumbs of glass glittered the sidewalk. We ran toward sky and beach and a great unknown. I’d stood up in Hilde’s wedding and now Hilda was to stand up in mine. The next day. Along the lakefront, back behind the golf course, we ran on top of the breakwall, a jumble of concrete boulders. So many times before, and this would be our last time. Maybe. The next time we would both be married ladies. So we ran and talked. The whole time I was wondering what changes the next day might brin...