Through You

Aimee Bender gave a talk today at Tin House. I read two of her books in college, after finding out she'd gotten her undergraduate degree from UC San Diego. But that was less than ten years ago, and I don't remember much about either book, except that I'd enjoyed them at the time.

I recently gifted Oliver Sacks' The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat because I had fond memories of it. But all I can recall of it, other than those favorable impressions, are some fuzzy details about the titular case study.

It is disheartening that I don't remember much about these books that had affect me so much at the time.

On last weekend's MarcFit run, a member told me he'd just bought the new Kindle for his wife. Apparently, you can make marginal notes and highlight text. Maybe this would help. If I could write notes and interact with the text, maybe I'd better retain the words (like those studies about doodling improving one's memory of auditory input).

Maybe there's no way to stop the slow seepage of knowledge or sensations or emotions. Perhaps you can't take anything with you. And we should be happy to simply enjoy what comes for the time it's there. Every book I read, every time my father rolls through town, and every moment with my husband.