in the past

October 29, 2001

This Year's Bird Sightings:
Plum Island Year List

Today's Reading:
The Gilgit Game by John Keay, In Search of Clusters by Gregory Pfister

This Year's Reading:
2001 Book List

Today is my father's birthday. I don't remember how old he would have been. He always refused to give his age. When we were growing up he'd always say he was "old enough to know better and young enough to learn". So it's not entirely unreasonable that I have no idea what year he was born. It is however mildly embarrassing. After all, I do remember what year he died. That would be 1989.

For some reason 1989 seems further in the past than say 1958 or 1967 or even dates long before I was born. I navigate my past by the landmarks just like I do the confusing New England roads. I can't tell you what year such and such happened, but I can tell you whether it was before or after some event like the 1967 World Series or the Blizzard of '78.

When Nancy and I were driving semi-aimlessly around Rhode Island last weekend looking for pretty fall foliage and ending up at Spring Lake, a place that figures in my childhood memories and in BiB's but that Kevin denies all knowledge of, we somehow drove even deeper into the past.

After we left Spring Lake we kept going west and a little north toward Wallum Lake. Somehow we passed Wallum Lake and ended up in Connecticut - well we actually didn't know we were in Connecticut right away but that is where we ended up. In the middle of back roads and nowhere in particular, we heard the roar of engines, many engines, powerful engines. Pretty soon we located the source of the sound. It was simply labeled "Raceway" or something like that. Nancy wanted to stay and eat dinner at the restaurant overlooking the track but gave up that idea pretty quickly once we went out on the deck and were overwhelmed with the noise and the dizzying sight of the speeding cars. So Nancy asked me if I knew where we were and before I looked at a map or anything, I replied "Thompson, Connecticut."

"How do you know that?" she asks.

Elementary my dear Watson...

My Dad was really into race cars. I remember when I was a little kid he would talk about going to Thompson, Connecticut to watch the car races. We've been driving along the Rhode Island/Connecticut state line and we come to a deafening speedway. Ergo... Thompson, Connecticut.

The map confirmed my deduction.

I have no memory of ever having been there or even knowing where it was, only of hearing my Dad talk about it, and yet somehow I end up there the week before his birthday. Weird.

So I tried to tell that story at the family gathering yesterday. I kept getting interrupted. Finally when I managed to communicate the name Thompson to my mother she confirmed that my Dad loved that raceway. The brothers present didn't remember ever hearing it mentioned. Must remember to email BiB about this as he's only two years younger than I am and so might remember it.

The distance from the past is a highly variable thing, I guess.