For What It’s Worth – Memory

For as long as I can remember Nan made Christmas cakes. I have a clear memory of that special cake appearing proudly on the table, sliced and presented on a glass plate after dinner. As a kid I refused to eat it because I didn’t like eating things with ‘bits’ in it! Now I mourn all that delicious goodness I missed out on! Fruit cake and tomatoes – the two things I glory in as an adult but refused to allow into my childhood diet.

Every year, one cake for each family, baked in layers of paper, wrapped in foil and packaged in a round plastic container we returned for a refill next year. Nan made it look so simple, we accepted them gratefully and never questioned the cost. When her poor old hands finally called time my sisters, mum, my aunt and I (her ‘girls’) all gathered each October in my kitchen to make Nan’s beloved Christmas cakes. Baking these beauties has quickly become an important part of my Christmas celebrations and I look forward every year to the chance to spend an afternoon together. We are convinced that Nan is with us as we create. I can hear her voice urging me to be far more generous with the brandy. Don’t bathe it, Melinda. Soak it. More. Perhaps a little bit more.

Ah, memories. They feel solid and right and precious. One of my sisters is adamant she can remember back to the very early years of life. What a gift to recollect those lovely days of toddlerhood, the ones that for me are augmented by the photographs I know so well! My own memories seemed pallid, less detailed, less believable and never stood up to the challenge of comparison. When I saw the title of Lisa Genova’s BigThink talk Your Memory is Lying To You – Here’s How I felt relief. She talks about the different types of memory, the almost immutable semantic memory (those hard-learned times tables) and muscle memory (it’s just like getting back on a bike). But the memory of events that happened in our lives? It’s episodic memory and the quirks of how it is laid down and modified and influenced and retold over time explains just how vulnerable memory can be to changes wrought by stories shared and details embellished and so many other elements that render this sort of memory so vulnerable to change. I WAS there and time and tales means I just don’t remember things the same way. Less charitably… my sister is likely misremembering things too!!!!!

I have no idea what she did while I was inside reading and writing, to be honest. When my memories of childhood varied from hers I learned to step back and let hers be the only story. I didn’t know then what I know so clearly now. We each have our own experiences and memories are created for us from our own perspective. Of course they’re often different! And, of course, they’re both real.

Well, real enough. The science of creating memories is a field of study that continues to uncover nuances about the intricacies of the brain that promise to keep me intrigued for years to come. It’s no surprise to find that focus and attention plays a key part in laying down memories. It is simply not possible to remember something you didn’t see or experience. If you didn’t clock it, it may as well never have happened in your life. 

But memory is not a camera and it is fallible (Lisa Genova). If you are an evidence junkie it’s really worth your while to go and read her book on this, Remembering. The Science of Memory and the Art of Forgetting. When I saw the movie Still Alice based on her novel I panicked. I’m interested in words and linguistics. I have three kids. Oh my god! This is me!!!

For I’d been noticing a gradual change in myself. I had been reading books on my Kindle and quickly moved across to my iPad. In an effort to save a little time and money I signed up to the free library eBook borrowing system and was soon devouring books without leaving the comfort of my bed. I really missed holding a real book in my hands but convinced myself that the gains were worth it. Then I began to notice that when I did pick up a ‘real life’ book I had trouble reading whole sentences. I wasn’t getting lost in the story anymore. I was flicking to key words across the page and basically inferring the crux of a story. And then I realised… I couldn’t remember the books I had read. 

I missed it. I missed being able to become one with a story. I hadn’t underlined a sentence or copied a quote that resonated with me into my journal in months. I couldn’t remember who had said that clever thing that said something like… I was beginning to read only the first paragraph in a news article and ignoring anything that followed. Depth of knowledge and experience was rapidly disappearing from my grasp. I knew it was happening and it made me uneasy. My membership at the empathy gym had long expired. My kidults have never been lucky enough to live with what I now know to be such a gift for they were born into a home and an education system and a society already in the thrall of online technology. They do not know what they are missing and so they do not perceive any issue. I am so sorry for them, it’s a parenting failure I’m not yet sure I know how to remedy. Bear with me, kids, I haven’t given up yet!

I was so relieved to read that there is now evidence to prove that the way we read on a screen actually does start to colour or influence how we read on paper. And then that when our screen-reading contaminates our book-reading – we lose some of the pleasures of reading books themselves. It’s not me. And I can fix this.

I’ve made a serious effort over the past six months to wean myself away from electronic resources. I haven’t been ridiculous with it. After all, I still write on a computer and engage with friends and family online. I pick up my current affairs from a variety of sites and am an avid Youtube viewer (travel shows, get me out of here!). Recognising that there truly is increasing proof that screens are inferior to the physical page I’ve tried to find a balance that lets me regain my ability to focus. I leave my phone at home when I walk and if it’s needed for navigation I turn off all other notifications. I borrow physical copies of books (and buy them as well, sorry Ian, the shelves will never be minimalist!). Reading is a pleasure once again. I’ve maintained my habit of writing with pen and paper but I’ve extended it from letter writing and journaling to include my work drafting stories and exploring ideas. Yes, it’s slower, but it’s more accurate and, I think, allows for more considered thought. It’s focused. Copious research shows that writing by hand forces your brain to engage with the information and improves both comprehension and retention of information. Yep, my beloved handwriting once again wins the day, this time for memory and attention. I feel present in the process and, glory of glories, I’ve been swept away by story again.

We have all spent hours in the kitchen with Nan, sometimes together and often on our own. I’m comforted by how dearly we each remember these special moments. I shouldn’t be shocked at how emotionally we defend any variation in details. When one of us challenges another on ‘the way Nan did it’ we feel as if our own reality is being attacked. The thought that there was more than one way to make scones, that she did things differently with others, that she was someone else when not with us… that’s actually heart wrenching when our memories are all we have of her now. It’s a curious thing, memory.

I have no idea if I will ever convince my kidults that screen downtime has a benefit. I won’t give up (#naggingmother). It’s too important. In the meanwhile I will continue to cultivate my own focus and attention. I will read (obviously). I will sit with a cup of coffee and just people watch. We will eat dinner without phones by our sides. I will hike without technology and listen to the sounds of the bush. And only then will I come back to open the computer and pick up my phone. I have a Wordle streak to maintain.

Can you guess Nan’s cake mixing tip? Add your comment below. It’s not tricky but then I never knew!!!