How much of our memories do we create after the fact? What I mean is, as we get older and our past becomes more distant, I believe we begin to fill in the blanks a bit. We really don't remember everything. We tend to remember the central theme of that past, but the details become a bit hazy. It is those details that we begin to fill in later on in life when recounting that past. We create those details and present them as a memory, sometimes we even fool ourselves. The majority will create a happy past, a pleasant time filled with good memories. Given todays mindset of being a survivor and a victim of social injustice, I'm not as confident that will be the case in the future. Perhaps that is what is causing the dramatic rise in depression we hear about on those television advertisements.
I thought some about that yesterday after doing some baking. My daughter in law had asked my wife to bake a couple pies for a fundraiser she is hosting. I helped with that, rolling out the pie crust, a part of the baking process I can handle. After having rolled out those crusts, the pies ready to bake, I told my wife about something my mom always did. It can be a bit tricky when telling your wife about your moms' cooking but I waded into those waters anyway. When my mom was done making pies and had some of that crust left over she would make what she called "little boys pies" for me. Now, as I remember it she simply rolled out that dough and sprinkled it generously with cinnamon sugar. She rolled that dough up like a carpet and cut it into 1/2 inch thick pieces. They look like a cinnamon bun. They went into the oven with those pies.
That's how I remember all of that but some of the details are missing. At least something is missing. When I took those "little boys pies" out of the oven they looked good. As soon as they were cool enough, I snatched one up and popped it into my mouth with all the expectations of a child on Christmas morning. Well, what I got was a chunk of coal! Those "little boys pies" were as hard as a piece of coal. They weren't anything like I remembered them to be. I must have created a memory of them tasting delicious or a memory of how they were made. Whatever the truth is, something was drastically wrong. Needless to say, my wife wasn't impressed. Perhaps secretly it made her feel better. I still ate a few of them telling her about my memories as a child. I wasn't about to admit to any of that out loud.
What I remember is more of a Norman Rockwell painting of the past than the reality of that past. I do remember my mom baking and the smell of that. And yes, she did make those "little boys pies" that I would watch baking through the window in that oven door. It was something special, made just for me, an extension of a mothers hug. That is what I remember about that the most, being told they were just for me. My sister being two years older would just smile and go along with that, although she enjoyed eating them with me as well. But they were "little boys pies" and that was that. As I gnawed at them yesterday, yes gnawed is an appropriate adjective for what I was doing, my first thought was, what did I do wrong? Soon I dismissed that thought, and thought they were most likely that way all those years ago as well. My teeth were a bit stronger back then! But it could be that I am missing some details in exactly how they were prepared.
No matter, I just created that portion. I've managed to write four paragraphs about "little boys pies" that I haven't seen in over sixty years. I'm 72 and I'm certain mom wasn't making any "little boys pies" for me when I was twelve, but, it is a possibility. No matter how long ago that actually took place I simply don't remember the details, what I remember is the feeling. Maya Angelou said;" at the end of the day people won't remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel." With that small action, little boys pies, my mom made me feel love. You really can't recreate that, it has to be genuine. It's a good memory.
I expect these go by a different name in many households.
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