We are designers, coders & dreamers

Like reconciliations that can't be made directly (such as those made for the dead),
these clarifications are provided to clear up doubts remaining about memories some can't recall.

What we can do for you?

Hazmat ZoneI found an old draft on my server again, and steamed up about it last week. It was in my backups too, and I know I made the edit a month or two ago at least, and saved it carefully. It was an important change. A fact was wrong because it was based upon stories too old for me to remember.

A copyright allows the author to make edits to the working draft (the last draft, working draft, or copyrighted copy) because it’s owned by the author. A copyright authorizes 'fair use' of the work for their own purposes, but the last copyrighted draft is owned and can only be edited by the author.

If someone steals the new draft to replace it with an old one, to claim that it’s inaccurate, or wrong, they're stealing the copyright (perhaps to try to own it for themselves). Perhaps to rewrite history, or tell the story in their own way.

I had to consult with my mother to clarify confusion about which plane my father flew (I was very interested in planes when I was a child, and drew the nosecone of the B-58 Hustler maybe a thousand times to get it right). One of my stepfathers flew a 1976 Piper Cub, but she clarified which one my father flew, and where he bailed out.

Why Choose Us?

I didn't really trust the story I remembered about bailing out over the Atlas Mountains because he was in the Pacific Theater during a Korean Conflict. And, it may seem strange for a young boy so obsessed with airplanes to have forgotten what his father flew, but if you take a closer look at our family's history, you'll find that we may have been under suspicion for helping with the reconstruction of Germany, so every possible scenario must be getting checked and rechecked to be sure we're not really Nazi's on the run.

Our births (and my parents names) were hand written into a typed copy of the family tree, suggesting that we may have been added to hide the truth about our 'real history'. Add to that the 40 years of drugging and hypnosis in the health care system, and the fact that I didn't grow up with my father, and it's easy to see how things like this can happen.

My mother's father (my grandpa) seemed to suggest that the death of his son (my uncle), may have served as further justification for the Box Car Agreement that that ended WWI, or the signing of the Armistice Agreement on Ferdinand's train (by way of a head on collision in an Alpha Romeo that put the steering column of the car through his chest).

So, she repeated the story for me one more time, and wrote it down as well. The correction I made was based upon her report. She said he flew a Cutlass rather than the Corsair, which was the name of the plane I thought he flew to begin with. And, that makes sense because the Corsair was not fit for aircraft carriers and was decommissioned before the Pacific Conflicts following WWII. She also added that Moroccans had killed a French Airman who landed there just prior to my father's arrival.

Repressed Memories

It’s like the question: “Where were you when you heard JFK died?” I usually reply: "In my backyard", but I was only 5 at the time, and I remembered the backyard to be the one on Talmadge Avenue, not where it should've been at my grandma's place.

I get suspicious of confusion like that, and track it down. If the recollection of a memory is confusing, is it because we're trying to obscure a memory, or is somebody else? We forget things because a preoccupation of some kind demands it of us. Sometimes the trauma is due to chemical exposure, such as blackouts typical of alcohol use.

Others may include shock, or awe, and an even simpler explanation might be arrived at by being fully aware of the fact that we can't remember what's happened when we're asleep. Even worse, a Colonic I was required to administer by my mother, but completely forgot about shortly later, didn’t return until I encountered a Hate Crime Scene.

ColonicWho can we trust?

Because some memories return with suspicious errors, I realized that because I was not accountable for events I may not have considered relevant, my lack of focus on these events left the details out of kilter.

Some repressed memories are unavoidable. Memories that return unbidden aren't really under our control are they? If they were, we would recall the events like any other! Those of us who live with the return of traumatic memories have no choice but to watch them play like movies before our eyes whenever required. We have no choice, but we learn to trust ourselves.

Thoughts?What else we can do for you?

I still don't remember what happened to my best friend Davy, but I was asked to make amends to him for what a Police Officer referred to as lack of due diligence, so I’m back in the neighborhood now with a foggy memory of reporting to his mother. I told her that he fell down between our yards. It may have resulted from the swing of my bat, but I clearly remember telling his mother Alice that he had fallen down shortly later. She stood in the doorway with the screen door open plain as day, and quietly nodded to give me leave.

Who knows, maybe I'll remember the whole thing someday, but if you listen to the girls at Shea Stadium during a Beatles concert in the 1960’s, you’ll appreciate how severe the circumstances were. And, perhaps gain a better understanding of how difficult it was for us to deal with the trauma we were all living through at that time (I was 6, or 7 years old then).


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