Memory-dipping once more

I started reading Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Froer some time ago. A few weeks ago I picked up a stack of interesting books - A Way in the World by V.S. Naipul, Moonwalking with Einstein, Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Best Spiritual Writing of 2011, Moonlight Over Manifest, a YA book - but I've only finished the YA book, and they all are overdue. (Thank goodness for fineless libraries! Of course, if they had online renewals, I'd renew them, but our base library relies on handstamped cards in recipe boxes, so I just mention to the teen at the desk that I still am reading when we check out other things. They also have a still functioning card catalog. LOVE. But changes ahead are rumored.)

Distracted by all kinds of things, I haven't read past the first 50 pages of Froer's book; I'd turn it in, but it has a number of interesting snippets mixed in among some mental posturing.  The book is Froer's narrative about training for the World Memory Championships, but it's also an exploration of how memory works. Does it get around to wondering why we have memory, or does that tend away from science toward theology?

I don't know yet what conjectures the book puts forth about whys, but I did appreciate a section about how being busy can be a good thing for your brain because it creates all kinds of new patterns, as well as preventing old patterns from becoming ruts. I sometimes fear our life is so chaotic and full that our experiences will be forgotten before they take root and become meaningful. Isn't that what we are supposed to be doing -- having meaningful experiences? Or making meaning out of what experiences we do have. . .

I often crave a quieter routine, but Froer cites research that claims that when our days are too similar, they blend together and are forgotten more easily. Certainly this must be true of days spent working in a cubicle.  I know my days as a young mother were somewhat varied - we might go to the park or the zoo or the library. We'd take walks and read and cook.  But I can recall so few individual moments, so I question Froer's citation's accuracy. I wish I had taken more photos, written more diary entries, held onto more bits of conversations.  I do remember lying exhausted on the floor, waiting for dinnertime to come while babies crawled on top of me, and wishing that time would speed by. Irony.

Indulge me by admiring my cute children 8 or 9 years ago:

I love how the 5 and 6 yr olds are totally in persona in their
costumes from grandma, while the 3 yr old is not quite sure...

But even at 3, he knew about bunny ears

The consolation is that our now will be equally as poignant to look back upon someday down the road.  I should be writing down the things my teenagers are doing and saying - if I could do so without embarrassing them. I came home late from my class last night, and my oldest was wearing the medal he had won in the All-Island high school cross country meet. He was still smiling about the team's victory celebration at Yogurtland.  He still looked very much like the little boy who was so excited to win a prize in a costume contest.  I know he won't forget that moment unexpected victory was announced.

Unfortunately, I probably will forget. My field record for remembering is notoriously poor, and I fear my husband will have to suffer through my senile dementia in the not too distant future.

So thank goodness for photography, the weak attempt to track our travels, record our reunions, mark our maturings...

More efforts at making time stand still: the last few photos of my parents' visit:

Stopping a fight between that former 3 yr old and the new infant

Love the paddleboards

My parents were able to witness a cross country meet ...

They look serious, but inside they are more like their friend on the left.

... and an Eagle Scout Ceremony for Spiderman.

Attempts at family photos

River boat "cruise"

Land crab farm

River catfish - the Japanese translator's dinner. Caught with whitebread on fishing line
tied to an old Gatorade bottle trailing behind the boat.

This is the guide's son "Jelly Bean" who patted my daughter's arm hair.

"Halitai" - monitor lizard.

Model of a Chamorro home

Ancient latte - the foundation stones. Chiefs' homes had more latte.

Honeybee nest in a breadfruit tree.

Our guide with an infamous brown tree snake. For a time, the FDA offered cash for snakes brought in dead, but it was discovered that people were breeding them.

The coconut crab

A trapped halitai eating hot dogs.

Sirena and the Spanish bridge. Sirena became a mermaid because her mother cursed
her when she didn't bring home fish in time for dinner because she loved to swim.

Soccer was also on the schedule - middle school

U10 futsal match - pitch is being upgraded, so games are following
indoor rules.

The umbrella is necessary for rain and uv ray protection

Frozen in joy

A visit from the aircraft carrier USS George Washington

More scenes with the grandparents

On day 2 of my parents' visit, I led them on a tour of the southern part of the island, the mountainous end.  The girls and I put them on to the test climbing up Mt. Jumullong Manglo, which is peak near on the way to the top of Mt. Lamlam, the tallest mountain on Guam. Since it is rainy season, the trail, which is usually well marked since it is where the Good Friday hike takes place, was pretty slippery, but Nana and Pop hung in there.  From there we stopped to see the remains of Ft. Soledad, the ruins of a Spanish Fort, and then on to Inarajan pools, which are natural swimming holes formed by lava near the coast.  We peeked in at St. Isidore's, a church on the east side, because he is the namesake of my parents' farm. Then we ate a late lunch at the famous Jeff's Pirates Cove, which is well known for its expensive hamburgers. It is popular mostly because it is just about the only place to get a bite to eat on the southeast side of the island.  Jeff has also done a great job of marketing and merchandising. Plenty of souvenirs available in the foyer near the check-out.

The piece of paper is from the funeral service of a biker who was stationed here at some point. The funeral was in Washington state but some friend or family member must have brought the program (and some ashes?) here in memoriam.

Friday, the kids had a half day of school, so we lingered over coffee until they came home, and then we had a Guam history day.  First we stopped to visit my oldest's Eagle Scout project, at a reservoir where the agriculture department is trying to stock freshwater fish for fishing, as well as protect the endangered moorhen, which nests here. My son's bridge is now working, as the rainy season created a small creek where it had been dry.  From there we headed to some battle sites from World War II, the War in the Pacific Museum, and the Marine Corps Pacific War Museum, which was a favorite of the 8 year old. We stopped for photo ops at the Latte of Freedom, located at the Governor's complex, and got a brief political history tour by the docent, who pointed out the "haole" governors of Guam's portraits on one side and the local governors' portraits on the other side of a display.  Haole is a derogatory word in Hawaii, but the guy didn't hesitate to apply it before us. My sons assured us that in Guam it is used more as a distinguishing term and doesn't have the racist overtones it carries in Hawaii. However,   the experience added to the complexity of being a military member in Guam, where until the 80's governors were either Admirals or civilians appointed by the US president. 

We ended the day with a soccer game and a cookout and birthday cake with the neighbors.

The Masso reservoir fishing pier.

Sitting like priests at Asan beach overlook - site of military headquarters.

At the Pacific War museum dedicated to the Marines who served on  Guam. More died here than at Guadalcanal.

Can I have kids this big?

Remnants of a Japanese bomber.

Weapons found in the jungle.

Artwork on pillowcases by Japanese POWs.

A Japanese soldier who was found in the jungle in the 60s, when he was brought in.

Yokoi, the Japanese soldier who hid in the jungle until 1978. He lived in a cave and ate fish and jungle produce. Apparently he was afraid the locals would kill him if he were found. 

Origami peace cranes like we saw in Japan.

Marine corps vehicles. 

The best part of the museum was being able to climb in  and one the vehicles.  Not a "don't touch" sign in the building.

The governor's complex.

View from the Latte of Freedom.  Weather was overcast all week. No tropical sunshine for my skincancered parents.

Sirena, the girl who was turned into a mermaid because she didn't do her chores, near the old Spanish bridge in Agana.

Happy Birthdays! The cake was a rough outline of a tandem bike.