Total Recall

When the title and accompanying paper work needed to be collected for my mother’s dead as a doornail 1999 Mercury Sable, I turned to both my mother and my husband and said Wasn’t there a car loan taken out on that vehicle when it was bought?

They both resoundingly said no.

But I remembered it differently. I distinctly recalled a conversation with my husband 14 years ago while in the process of the car’s purchase whereby he said that since the financing on the car was practically 0%, it made no sense for my mother to buy the car outright. It made sense rather, for her to keep her money invested at a high rate and pay a car loan down at a low rate. Furthermore I recalled John, the seventy-ish year old Italian-Catholic most senior car salesman from Hempstead Ford Lincoln Mercury who stood about 5’7 and wore empire waisted trousers with his belt buckle lying west of his left pant loop being told as such.

As it turns out, I was correct—in every detail.

Because I am a memory keeper. I possess an uncanny ability to file minutia in my brain for later extraction. And my reward is the affirmation from people who bore witness to my recollections. Some of which are childhood friends—like Elissa who lived through the dropping of Lenten cans in Sister Grace’s class. Some of them are relatives—like my cousin Betty who like me can still taste my grandmother’s frittata. And some are strangers—like Mark Saltzman, Sadie’s son—the accomplished writer and composer who contacted me after he googled our piano teacher Miss Wilkie (Yes, Mark is real.)

They are my testimonial.

And while a select few may doubt the verity of my recollections, and others (like my family) may find it annoying that I may remember things that they do not; I remain untouched. My memories walk with me when I am alone. They inspire and direct my message. The clarity of my recall colors my chosen words. And when I cozy down at night, I sleep in peace. Because I have no lies to confess in the dark.