Hidden Brain is one of my favorite shows/podcasts. I always learn something and I almost always forward a link onto someone I think would appreciate the story or perspective. (I do love to share a resource - not a surprise to most folks reading this.) In January there was an episode titled Are Your Memories Real? They focused on research about false memories, but the part that intrigued me most was thinking about memory in general.
“Human memory is fallible and malleable.”- Elizabeth Loftus on Hidden Brain
I am not commenting on the concepts of false memories or trauma, but that our memories feel so real, so set in stone. When we remember something, that is the way it happened. How could anyone think it happened in a different way. Our identities seem to get locked up in our memories. If we remember something that didn’t happen the way we thought it did, what does that say about us? Who are we if our memories are in question?
Thinking about memories in relationship to identity reminded me of a researcher from many years ago. He called to say he was in town briefly and while he was here he wanted to visit the park where he had won a baseball championship. He grew up in Portland and had a picture of himself in front of the park sign. He wanted to know where it was located so he could stop by while he was in town. He said it is was in the 1950s and he was pretty sure the name was Sumner Park. I took his number and told him I would check and call him back.
I am not sure why he didn’t just Google the park, but I always tried to help where I could. I started with the Find-A-Park search on the City’s website so I could easily find the address, date acquired by the City and the various amenities like a baseball field. When I searched for Sumner Park, I found it located in NE Portland and not only was it acquired in 1998 it was also a “pocket” park - too small for a baseball diamond.
So then I searched for “baseball” and clicked the link for more information about each park. I needed to make sure the park with the baseball diamond existed in the 1950s when he was a young boy. Ultimately I came up with Col Summers Park acquired in 1921. It was originally named Belmont Park but renamed in 1938, well before the researcher would have play baseball there. I felt I had a good match and could give him the address and he could drive by that afternoon. Sumner and Summers sounded very similar and it would make sense that one could be confused for the other.
When I called him back, I told him what I found about Col Summers Park. He told me I got it wrong. He knew the park was named Sumner Park. He had a photograph that proved it.
Deep internal sigh.
By this point I had learned not to argue with researchers who knew they were right. Nothing good comes from that discussion. So I relied on what I could be sure of - I found evidence of a Sumner Park in NE Portland that was acquired in 1998 and was a pocket park and that Col Summers Park in SE Portland had a baseball diamond in the 1950s. He might remember it differently but I can only rely on what I can actually find in the records or online in this case.
I gently suggested I give him the address for Col Summers Park and he could see if it was familiar. He said again that I was wrong because he had a picture that proved it was Sumner Park. A lesser version of me wanted to say, well do you have that picture now - what does the sign really say? But that doesn’t help anyone, so I left it with, “I am sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. Good luck with your search.”
Memory is a funny thing. He was so sure he was right in what he remembered and any information that countered his memory was wrong. There was no room for nuance. For me, I am learning as I age and my childhood is further and further away, its okay if I don’t remember events, places or people exactly. It is how I feel about them that matters.
Wonderful observations and BTW, you are standing by your Great-Great Uncle George Thompson on his porch at his home near Lisbon, NY.
I am very familiar with confusing memories. My daughter Sarah is a consummate researcher. She helped me prove to my brother that he was completely wrong about an event in the past. Her hard work also helped me prove (partly) to Jill Lepore, the Harvard historian, that she was wrong about an event in the past. I have been upset when I knew I was right and others didn't believe me, so I sympathize with this man in your story.