Old Addresses

My brother Dale in California sent out an email with a list of old addresses. These were return addresses from letters that mom had sent him throughout my childhood, and he asked if we had any memories of these places. I thought I might spend some time trying to put something down in writing about each of the addresses he sent.

Dale is the oldest of us, and I knew very little of him growing up.

I knew he was a musician.
I knew he had been in the military.
I knew that he shared his first name, George, with his father who had once been my mother's husband.

Thanks to Dale, there has been an effort lately to get to know each other more, something we've all probably thought about. It started with some emails, encouraging a sort of unhurried conversation between the seven of us and mom. We've been messaging back forth, telling each other stories and getting to know each other and ourselves.

We all have holes in our memories. With there being so many of us, I think, eventually all the holes in our memories can be filled. For me, a major hurdle is associating a memory with a time. My memory has never been linear (Point A followed by Point B followed by Point C...)

Growing up on the move leaves a man disconnected from his own history, unable to peer backwards in any organized way. The memories are there, lurking about, but without any discernible structure. I'm hoping these conversations will help me turn all my scattered memories into a cohesive story, and to see that story as a part of a bigger History.

And, eventually, to add that History to the rest of 'em out there.

So, I'm gonna spend some time with my memories and see what I dig up. They'll be separate posts in the interest of organization, and the first one will go up as soon as I find the time to write it all down. (originally, that sentence ended "...later tonight, after I figure out what to eat for dinner.")

One more thing I knew about Dale when I was a kid:
He gave me my first adding machine. It was a Christmas gift when we lived in Collierville, Tennessee.

Similar to Memory, it was an archaic little machine that had to be figured out before it could be counted on.

More about the abacus at a later date.