It's always fun to rehash old college stories. Some of them might even be true.
I had a Zoom call yesterday with several of my college choir friends. One of our friends was, somewhat tongue in cheek, explaining that he'd discovered that the covid vaccine is not injected into your body at -70 degrees or whatever, that despite all the concern for preserving it in transit, it's able to stay at room temp for a few days (I guess), and that's how it's injected. So commented that the vaccine is basically like McDonald's hamburgers--they arrive at the store frozen, but then they sit around at room temp for a few days and they're... fine.
At which point it was brought up that I'm the McDonald's expert, having worked there for a couple years in my much younger days. And it was also recalled that one of the skills I had taken away from that job was the ability to craft perfect soft serve ice cream cones of virtually any height. Six to ten inches was probably the norm that I would make in the college dining hall.
Which brought up the story I referenced earlier. Our college choir rehearsed at noon every day, so a bunch of us would eat lunch together more or less every day after rehearsals. One particular day, one of our other choir friends (not on the Zoom call) did his not-particularly-unusual shenanigans of sticking his finger in some of my food as he asked "Are you gonna eat that?"
Short answer: no, I was not.
When I finished my meal, though, I went back for an ice cream cone and came back with this perfect tower of soft serve, which I smashed onto Mr. Are-You-Gonna-Eat-That's head.
I might say "allegedly" because I have no memory of doing this. Which isn't to say I didn't, especially since my friend telling the story cited it as one of her favorite moments in college. But that does seem like something you'd remember, doesn't it? Memory's a funny thing though, and I'm well aware of how fallible it is.
Mmmm, soft serve.
ReplyDeleteMemory is a funny thing. An ongoing discussion between my mother in law and my father in law when he was alive was when they'd gotten a king-sized bed. She was completely convinced it was about 10 years before he thought they'd upgraded. I wonder what things my husband and I will remember differently when we're telling stories in the retirement home.
Memory is a funny thing. We remember what we pay attention to but then we can also revise those memories. Your mother had much better memories of their year in Beckley WV than Martha or Johnny. She was older but her memories had texture to it. She even recalled the address of the house. (texture and details)
ReplyDeleteI just heard a personal story from a research psychologist, how she remembered her father reading some particular book to her and how important that was to her. Except that at some point she noticed the publication date of the book: after her father had died, when she herself was in high school and unlikely to have anyone reading to her.
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