My parents were always really good about having the family experience "culture," and when we first moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, they took us all to see our first Chinese New Year's parade. They remember our seats curbside for the closest view possible, and the dancing lions, and the drums, and the regional costumes, and the Chinese food afterward. We remember that it was the Year of the Ox, and that very fellow, live in the parade, pooped right in front of us.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Poop Is the True Memory
Talking at lunch today about childhood memories and how different they can be for us compared to our parents. Sometimes, it's because how we feel about a memory becomes stronger than the memory itself, which is either a saving grace or just an untethering.