Sunday, July 19, 2009

Memory is Odd

Memory is odd, especially for odd memories. Sometimes I can tell what triggers one and sometimes I can't.

For example, yesterday, I was reading Robert B. Parker's latest small book, Chasing the Bear, his description of a poor neighborhood, when suddenly I was remembering a house that had pigs in the front yard. I walked past these pigs two or three times a week, six years ago while walking my dog Owen. I was living with my mom in Costa Mesa, California at the time. The house and pig yard were in a neighborhood of otherwise expensive homes with landscaped yards. The pigs, I think, started life as small Vietnamese pot bellies but had been fed a sufficient diet to grow quite large. I always spoke to them, "Hello pigs, how are you today?" that kind of thing. They grunted back. I could feel their intelligence. I did wonder, still do, what the neighbors thought of them. Mom's house was about ten blocks away. I might have liked living close to them, but mom probably wouldn't have. I certainly can imagine the objections their neighbors might have had.

An odd memory to pop up, especially since Parker's description didn't include any pigs. Oh, and by the way, Parker's book - excellent piece of writing. It's a short story about his character, Spencer's boyhood; he was raised by his father and uncles, an all male household. His dialogue? Well, that's what he does best. His punctuation, for those of who care about such things, is perfect. And his sentences always flow.