i saw a friend of mine from college today who asked me on several occasions, "do you remember that time when...?" and my response was always, "no...."
how is it possible that i remember so little of my college experience? especially since i was there 5 years... where do all those memories go? i think they are in me somewhere.
proof:
my grandfather was born in russia, but moved to argentina as a 4 year old child. he spoke russian but upon settling in argentina his parents decided that only spanish would be spoken from then on. over time he forgot russian completely. or at least that seemed to be the case.
several years ago my grandfather had a stroke. while recovering in the hospital, my grandmother witnessed him going in and out of consciousness. it was in this state that he began to speak russian again. he had not spoken the language in over 70 years, but it had been stored somewhere in his brain - inaccesible until that moment.
it's amazing to consider how many things we don't know that we know.
2 comments:
they spoke yiddish at home. i am not sure if it was russian (you are probably right) or yiddish that he babbled after his first stroke. no talking after the second... miss giulius
yes, they spoke yiddish at home and not spanish. actually julio's parents , libe and hersch, never had a very good command of the spanish even though they still manage to run their fur store ( now so politically incorrect at those times was a prestigious activity )
but what julio spoke while unconscious and near death was russian and not yiddish.
they say that before dying you have a flashback of all your life.
at my death bed I will certainly have images of julio grabbing my little hand entering la bombonera, the birth of my six kids, playing soccer with gaby in libe's fur store.
I also misss giulius very much.
vio was lucky enough to see him walking down broadway a few years after his death.
I try at least to dream about him and see his face. that happens rarely but when it does is so soothing.
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