Monday Memory Day

Do you ever wonder how memories work? I do. I am confident that research is being done regarding the formation and recollection of memories though, so I will patiently await the results of said research. Particularly, I want to know how we can "think of things." What is going on in our brains when we try to remember something, the name of a song for instance, and eventually remember it? Is it like Google for the brain that does it? Anyway, on to something that I remember, regardless of how I actually remembered it.


The first major trip I remember taking occurred in the summer of 1986. This was shortly after I really learned to read, which might be one reason that my memories are so vivid; there's text that goes along with them. The trip consisted of driving to Minnesota and back. Driving. In a big ol' '79 Olds. On the way out, it was just my little brother, my parents, and I. My older brother and sister had flown out a few weeks earlier. We were going to visit my grandmother, did I mention that? Anyway, a lot of great things happened on the trip and here are a few brief descriptions.

In North Dakota, the night before we got to Owatonna, MN, there was a huge Midwestern thunderstorm. We stopped at a rest area to sleep, but the storm was so cool, that neither I, nor my little brother could sleep. So after about one hour, we hit the road again, which is when I promptly fell asleep.

The day we got to my grandmother's house, there was a tornado warning for her town.

I went to my first pro baseball game while in Minnesota. It was the Twins against the Mariners. Before the game, my dad and I were down at the wall watching the players warm up. One of the pitchers tossed a ball into the stands, right at me. Some adult leaned out and caught it. The pitcher, seeing this, said "Hey, give it to the kid in the green hat!" That was me! I was wearing my green t-ball hat! So I got the ball, and my dad took my down to have it signed by the pitcher, who just happened to be Bert Blyleven. Only one of the best pitchers ever. I still have that ball. On the way back up to our seats, we were climbing over some seats (I don't know why we didn't just use the aisles) and I accidentally stepped on the back edge of the seat which made it fold up on my leg like....umm....something that folds up. I am terrible at analogies, sorry. So not only did I get an autographed ball, I also got hurt! Then, during the game, I swear the announcer was saying that one player's name was "Curvy Bucket." He was actually saying "Kirby Puckett," who would later become one of my favorite players (remember the '91 World Series? Kirby carried the Twins to the title that year. I still have a Homer Hanky from that series). Then, on the way home, my sister, who had eaten a combination of honey roasted peanuts and cotton candy for dinner, puked all over my grandmother's lap. My grandma had plastic bag to catch the puke, but it had a hole in it.

Wow, so many cool things at one baseball game! I'll leave the rest of the trip for next week, sos I don't bore you all to tears right now.