Folded Thought of the Day:

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Memoirs of a Forgotten Man
... Flashback


A grainy image flickers.  A monochrome photograph come alive.  
With colors burned to blinding white and cinder black.  A boy 
runs, through snow, under barbed-wire fences, past trees, 
towards an open field, making tracks toward the coal smoke 
rising from the 5:15 to who knows where... on time as usual.  
A stumbling piano melody follows his flight.  A train whistle 
blows.  Blood flows from gathered wounds.  His escape is joyous, 
free, unrelenting.  He's going to make it, he has to... who 
could doubt it.  

But the perspective changes -- from following the flight to 
capturing it.  A wide shot with the boy running directly into 
the camera. Behind him are a hundred uniformed pursuers.  

The film stops and begins to melt.  The image of arms inches 
away from the boy's shoulders burns into your eye.  Get used 
to it.

The train whistle fades.  

You are seated in a dark room.  You are alone.  Before you 
stands a screen upon which images are being projected.  
The moments of your life are being replayed, one by one -- 
all your memories, everything that is part of you.  

A backyard setting.  On a playset with a brother and sister, 
maybe a neighborhood friend.  A summer afternoon.  Your mother 
has a tray of lemonade.  Your brother hits you and you cry.  
And your crying transcends the years.  Flowing down your 
face, forming lines through the jittery images.  

A screen door flutters on its hinges.  A dinner when everyone 
sat at the table.  Mashed potatoes and corn, fried chicken.  
Your dad wolfing down helpings and making you feel secure.  
Making a promise to never let go of your hand.  But the film 
breaks.  The screen goes blank.  

Then it comes alive again.  Years later.  Are you enjoying 
the show?  You might be if you weren't aware that the 
projector, instead of simply reflecting your memories, is 
stealing them, one by one.  Each image being flashed before 
your eyes represents the final time you will experience 
these memories.  

What, did they steal this idea from a bad science fiction 
film?  Geez, nobody has an original idea anymore.  Yeah, 
well, it's that kind of thinking that probably led you here.

You observe a giant yard sale of your life.  Like rings 
in a pawnshop, every possession, each bit of you, is 
being displayed and redistributed.  A university diploma, 
a childhood toy, identification papers, letters to 
friends, a mother's birthday present, coins, musical 
recordings, shoes, invitations, an overcoat containing 
a dinner receipt from the night you fell in love.  

Everything... being toted away by greedy hands.  

Oh, and speaking of that person you fell in love with.  
Well, there she is on the screen, walking hand in hand with 
the one you never saw coming, happy now together, making 
their way into the sunset, fading out of view.  Nice of 
them to add that soundtrack, eh?  Just in case you weren't 
getting the full message.  

Eventually the screen goes dead for good, the final image 
has passed before your eyes.  And then all is gone.  The 
lights come on and you are escorted out of the room.  

Everything you are now started at that moment.  

                         ...

As the train stops you close your eyes and a small 
white square appears in the middle of your consciousness.  
A blank screen.  Always there, to remind you of the 
reminding that will never be.  


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