A good friend from college, FM, who basically has no stories from when she was in elementary school or younger. That entire era of her life is pretty much a mystery to her by now. She has only scattered memories, and her parents don’t really tell any stories about when she was that young. Since she grew up in an area without an extended family, and few family friends, and going to completely different elementary, middle, and high schools, she just has no one other than her parents to tell her stories about when she was young.
To me this is bizarre and unthinkable. Between my parents, my extended family, and my rather small hometown there are endless stories of what I was like as a child. I have a rather strong sense of who I was and what I did when I was younger.
Compared to that it seems somewhat like FM’s parents stole something precious from her. She somehow lost the childhood she had.
I’m thinking about that because I just bought Bobby McFerrin’s Medicine Man album on iTunes. It’s probably been over a decade since I’ve listened to that album. But I listened to it nearly endlessly as a child. My Dad mentioning it today, off-handedly, made me realize I wanted hear it again. Strange that such a simple thing is a luxury in comparison to FM.