In the early morning hours of Saturday, June 27th 2020, four months into the Covid19 Pandemic, I was having a dream about my college past. There were many faces that I remembered, or thought I remembered, from college and as I awoke I felt very nostalgic, longing for that camaraderie that few experience beyond that time period when one left home for the first time to go live in a college dormitory in some remote city or town. As I do every morning I made my way to the kitchen for my morning coffee, but instead of surfing the net or reading a book as I usually do while sipping morning coffee and trying to un-fog my brain, I wrote a short journal entry. It spilled out quickly with little effort. I then shared it with my wife, Yasmin, and with then my friend Ken via email. This is how it went:
Just woke up. Having coffee. Lots of dreams and thoughts, but they are quickly fading away. I want to get a few written down in order to be able to reflect on them.
I keep having a recurring dream about MichiganTech. I am back there again. There visiting for winter carnival, but also trying to arrange for lodging for the next term as it appears once again I am trying to go back to school there. I am staying with many others. People I know from my days back when I went to college there, and they are all there going to school like they never left. I am now desperately trying to remember all of their names, where and how I know them. Some are really from MichiganTech, but most of the ones that I remember are once from a more recent past, like former co-workers. I gather this is my brain trying to make itself happy that I'm at least remembering a few people.
I don't know why, but my own personal past has never really ever been terribly important to me. I was never one to take photo's, to keep in contact with people from my past. I've not kept in contact with anyone from my childhood or high school, or college days on any regular basis. Same goes for my time at my first job at WayneStateUniversity, or other past jobs. Oh, I do exchange a note with a folks every few years, but my perception is that most people do more than I.
Now, my past seems to be becoming more important to me. I watched a move on Netflix a few weeks ago. The move was about a psychologist that invented some sort of machine that could go into ones mind and pull back the memories like a movie on a laptop and play them back visually. This psychologist made the statement that life is nothing more than a collection of memories, and in a way I suppose that is true.
I surely wish that I had keep a journal all my life from the time I could write. A journal that would reflect on the people of the day, my interactions with them. What a treasure that would be to have right now.
So with those thoughts, here I capture a few memoirs.