Sunday's Cool: What Do We Remember?

Some thoughts about the National's new single, memory and gratitude.

You never know what you’re going to remember. I’ve been reflecting upon this (blessing? Curse?) lately, as I’ve realized how much of my recall is now devoted to small, inconsequential moments have nevertheless crystallized in my memory with far greater clarity than major life events that I feel like I should remember. Things are a little fuzzy around my first kiss, the first time I drove a car, my first time in another country, graduation, things like that. But then, there are certain off-handed conversations with coworkers at high school jobs, late night meals in college and out-of-the-blue phone calls with family that I’ll probably remember until I’ve forgotten my own name, and very possibly after. There’s just no rhyme or reason to it. 

In marriage (or any sort of long term relationship, romantic or otherwise) these fleeting memories pile up over time. I do remember the first time I kissed Liz and how she looked when she walked down the aisle and all that. But more clearly, I remember her wading into the lake with our dog to cool him down on a hot day, splitting a beer in the mall Applebee’s, and the walk we took to get coffee on our first New Year’s together because everyone else was too hungover. I cherish these memories because they feel so otherwise not special. There’s no reason for me to remember them. They were snatched at random from the daily swirl down the drain and preserved for all time through no merit of their own, like how Calvinists think about God saving souls.

I thought about all this again when listening to the new National song “New Order T Shirt,” which is about exactly this: lead singer Matt Berninger cataloging a list of mundane memories of his wife, “split-second glimpses and snapshots and sounds” which he “carries like drugs in a pocket.” It’s a very Matt Berninger metaphor, but it’s good. You never know when you might need these memories, when calling them up will enhance your present. You realize that your most treasured relationships are not only built on love, trust and respect, but also a stack of moments that seemed trivial at the time, and yet get mixed into the very foundation. It gives you an appreciation for the gravity of life which, unlike Schrödinger's cat, will often be serious whether or not you take the time to observe it. 

I’m tempted to wrap up with a “and that’s why you should always try to make good memories, because you never know what you’ll remember” which might be kinda sorta true but it’s also just too great of a burden. Nobody can arrange their whole entire life around what you might remember. You will collect your own split-second glimpses and snapshots and sounds whether or not you try. Instead of tormenting ourselves to make sure every single memory is as dewy as possible, maybe we just approach the process with gratitude for a life where these things wrap themselves around us like vines and, eventually, become part of the house.

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• I finished The Bohemian Highway, the second in Sara Gran’s Claire DeWitt novels, and I just loved it.. Highly recommend these books for people who like their mysteries mixed with a lot of existential ponderings and self-destructive behavior — imagine if Nancy Drew really went off the rails as she got older and you’re close.

• Watched Hulu’s Meet Me in the Bathroom doc, about the New York City rock scene of the early ‘00s, especially focusing on the Strokes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and LCD Soundsystem. Really increased my appreciation for Karen O. Made me like James Murphy quite a bit less? 

• Moved back to Nashville this week, which means whatever cosmopolitan, Euro-flair this Substack had is safely in the past, for now. For good or ill, we’ll see.