comments

1. Cindy Scroggins on August 21st, 2010 at 8:35 pm

   I like this story, Michael. Thank you. I’m also happy to see you again.

2. Carole Corlew on August 21st, 2010 at 9:23 pm

   That was scary! We all panic when these things happen. I was very afraid the outcome was not going to be so benign. Something about your very matter-of-fact delivery held a menace, I thought. I was very glad that I was wrong!

   My video camera and charger sat unmolested in my closet for a month and now the charger is gone and the battery is dead. Someone is playing tricks on me. I may have to wimp out until next Saturday. I am not making this up.

3. Andrew Simone on August 22nd, 2010 at 12:25 am

   the best part of childhood is how we seem to move on seamlessly from apparent tragedy to fun. as a five year old this is a thoughtless act, what did we lose?

4. Deron Bauman on August 22nd, 2010 at 1:02 am

   I miss you, Michael.

5. Rick Neece on August 22nd, 2010 at 5:45 am

   Thank you, Michael. It’s good to see you again.

6. Sheila Ryan on August 22nd, 2010 at 6:50 am

   (The threat of) fire. Followed by water. An elemental tale, Michael!

7. Sheila Ryan on August 22nd, 2010 at 8:58 am

   Oh, and Michael, this makes a nice companion piece to the pool story you told in response to Phil’s request for examples of having saved someone’s life.

8. Daryl Scroggins on August 22nd, 2010 at 10:47 am

   I love the way this shows the different worlds that kids and adults live in, even as they exist together. Adults are distracted by one range of things, children by another–and they are often not seeing the same things at all. And isn’t it odd how we remember childhood by way of images and incidents of the sort that we are later led to think are not significant. I was telling Cindy yesterday that I just noticed an odd feature of my early memories: it occured to me that every time I think of being ten years old, the same image of myself arises. I’m in the back yard of my parents’ suburban house, doing yard work and pausing to look at the mid-day sky to the west, wishing that I were down at the creek shooting my new slingshot. I guess memory makes icons of moments, placeholders of tone and light–and those moments shed the whole, rather than the other way around. There is no completeness, there is only emergent memory of emergent experience. A sail billowing on the boat that hasn’t been built yet.

9. from the comments | clusterflock on August 23rd, 2010 at 9:52 am

   [...] Daryl Scroggins: I love the way this shows the different worlds that kids and adults live in, even as they exist together. Adults are distracted by one range of things, children by another–and they are often not seeing the same things at all. And isn’t it odd how we remember childhood by way of images and incidents of the sort that we are later led to think are not significant. I was telling Cindy yesterday that I just noticed an odd feature of my early memories: it occurred to me that every time I think of being ten years old, the same image of myself arises. I’m in the back yard of my parents’ suburban house, doing yard work and pausing to look at the mid-day sky to the west, wishing that I were down at the creek shooting my new slingshot. I guess memory makes icons of moments, placeholders of tone and light–and those moments shed the whole, rather than the other way around. There is no completeness, there is only emergent memory of emergent experience. A sail billowing on the boat that hasn’t been built yet. posted by Deron Bauman in consciousness, history, memory, psychology | * | comment  [...]

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