When intuition trumps knowlege
Things gleaned from memory are interpretive. I don’t want to say “selective”, but that’s the way of the beast. Probably explains why we developed written records, as a society, and also why the skill of storytelling was so valued by those who came before. I mean, most of us can handle the salient things: the names of our siblings, and the right way to address our own pets. Beyond that, a wilderness.
Anyhow, this evening, while donairs were being prepared from a kit (don’t ask; stuff happens), a memory poked up from the forest floor. “Do you remember when you brought that university student home for supper?” Nothing to do with donairs, but we have an election coming up and identifying the names on the posters can be important. Like donairs.
I remembered the incident, because I knew the sibling of the guest. She remembered, because the visit involved dishes. As I said, memory… neither of us would know the person, if we should happen to cross their path on a city sidewalk. However, we remembered the important points. Nothing unison; we have our own soundtrack to life. The point made is that we did (both) attend the meal in question. And no donairs were served.
Carry on, please. Earlier this evening, I tried to match names to faces, without knowing any more than one of the dozen individuals. That’s a real test; if you can create identities based solely on a list and a photograph, you should go off and work as a detective. Like Holmes or Poirot. After all, intuition trumps knowledge, in that genre.
