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Photographic Memory

Not that my memory was all that great to begin with, but now it's a lost cause. I bought some ginko biloba but I keep forgetting to take it.

When Emma was born, I set out with beginner's enthusiasm, determined to be the Super-Homedaddy¾. I would plan and pack meticulously for the simplest of outings, with ample provisions of food, drink, extra clothing, diaper changing kit, blankets, books, toys, map, compass, and of course the camera, to capture those precious moments that seem to occur every few seconds during the early months of Baby's life but then taper off.

Now, nearly two years down the road, Emma has wrestled me down to her level; we coexist on a sort of a "right now" basis. I have difficulty separating my train of rational thought from the from the rambling din of toddler life: Nursery rhymes, bedtime stories, and TV show jingles occupy chunks of my brain that used to be in charge of locating my car keys. It's been months since I could plan enough to bring the camera anywhere.

Truthfully, my brain has always been oddly selective. I retain a vast archive of pop culture detritus but it often takes me a minute to remember how old I am. I remember every word of the 1960's TV commercial jingle for the board game "Trouble," (with the revolutionary "Pop-A-Matic" dice-rolling feature), but I don't remember the birthdates of immediate family members. Is this simply neural gymnastics or a cry for help?

I used to struggle for control but now I just sort of stay in the moment. My recent failures to pack elaborate snacks for outings is offset by the fact that the pockets of all of my clothes, Emma's clothes, plus the car and stroller seats are all lined with enough Goldfish cracker remnants to sustain an Everest expedition. Things generally work themselves out.

Well, mostly. I thought about bringing the camera when we took a walk down to the playground a few rainy days ago but by the time we left the house I had forgotten about it. A couple of things happened: While stumbling across the playground, Emma spontaneously discovered the joy of stomping in puddles. Dancing around, cackling with delight, making big splashes. Then the clouds shifted and a gigantic rainbow appeared, spanning the entire horizon, and, from my angle, perfectly framing Emma in her impromptu celebration. In my wishful arrogance I actually started reaching for the camera before remembering that I forgot.

I considered running home for it, but the clouds were already shifting and I didn't want to interrupt Emma's reverie. I tried to etch the scene into my brain. I really do have a photographic memory, I just forget to take the lens cap off sometimes.

I'm hedging my bets by telling as many people as possible. One of you can remind me of it, years from now when the only thing left rattling around in my mind is "Pop-A-Matic pops the dice, pop a six and you move twice ð"

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© Todd Pinsky 1998-2002. All rights reserved.