Memories and moving
One of the perks of moving is the novelty. You’re in a new residence and a new city. You’re meeting new people day-to-day. The people you spend the most time with almost certainly shifts. One of the perks of novelty is that it enhances your autobiographical recall. I’m simplifying, but you can read more about it here.
Even though novelty is likely to make your brain say things like “Whoa, we’ve never tried this food before; let’s remember that we like it!”, context-dependent memories are also meaningfully less likely to trigger. You’re not going to walk into a bar and think, “Ha, remember when I was here 5 years ago and Joe made that hilarious joke?” because, well, that bar’s located in a different city.
Since turning 18, I’ve lived in a decent number of different environments:
- Lexington, KY (4yr)
- Chapel Hill, NC (5yr)
- Waterloo, ON (4mo)
- San Francisco (1.5yr)
- Tucson, AZ (5mo)
- Flagstaff, AZ (6mo)
- Tucson, AZ (4yr)
- San Francisco (6mo)
Simply the act of typing out those names triggers all sorts of sparks of fleeting memories. It’s nostalgic, pleasant, mildy terrifying, all sprinkled with a tinge of pride.
I went out last night with Martin and some other friends and we ended up grabbing some midnight pizza after the club. While we were chatting, one of the people I’d just met asked me to tell a story. I asked him for a prompt (to which he orignally responded “a Rabbi”) and he said “A time in college”.
It caught me by surprise that I had to have a long think before answering. It’s been a while. But also, I have few reasons to think about Lexington these days.
I don’t have any deep conclusion here. I just want to note that these days I find myself forgetting events, even ones that once made fantastic stories. I wish that weren’t the case.
But also, I did pull together a story, which is recounted below:
Byron and I lived in The Gaines Center for the Humanities and specifically in the upstairs of the Bingham Davis House from 2011 until we graduated in 2014. In the first year or two that we were there, Byron fell in love with climbing and decided to clear out the attic in the house to build a little gym. The attic, which I had only been in once, was used for random storage and it was easy imagining it being put to better use.
One of the first items Byron found while cleaning was a cage. Our boss, Connie, worked downstairs and while I was working on some homework I heard Byron run downstairs, have a brief exchange with Connie, and then excitedly bound into my room.
“Check out this squirrel cage! Connie says that they used to have a squirrel problem and they bought this cage to fix it, but that they never had any luck! Apparently the squirrels are too smart! Anyway, I bet I can catch a squirrel with it!”
Quintessential Byron.
Less than 24 hours later I hear Byron run down the stairs, “Hey Connie, check out this squirrel I caught!”
After freaking Connie out, he comes back up to my room to show me the squirrel. I ask him what he’s going to do with it. His first thought is to eat it, so I ask him how he’s planning on killing it. “Mmm… I think I have an idea.”
Byron heads out on his bike while I continue working on homework. Within a couple hours he’s back with a styrofoam box. “I learned in lab that CO2 asphyxiation is one of the most humane ways to put down an animal for research. And I’ve been volunteering at the hospital and they’ve always got extra dry ice, so I grabbed a box.”
Despite the interesting developments occuring at home, I had to head to class. When I came back, I walked into the kitchen and saw a couple of things: A spread of newspapers on the floor with a little sprinkle of fur and guts on my right and a small pot of boiling water on my left. Tiny strips of gray meat floated inside. No broth or vegetables, just gray meat.
Notably missing was one Byron. But, I was in between classes and didn’t have time to ask questions, so I grabbed my granola bar and left. By the time I came home in the evening, Byron was back, everything was cleaned up, and Byron nonchalantly reported that the stew was, “Meh.” But he was glad he’d had the experience.
Also quintessential Byron. It’s not your average college student that finds time to catch, skin, clean, and stew a squirrel.