Things are definitely looking up for me! Several weeks ago I sent in an application to be evaluated for the coveted job of volunteering for the dedication of the National World War II Memorial here in Washington, DC. I decided I wanted to volunteer after seeing the construction of the memorial underway while I was downtown with Cameron. My first thought upon seeing the half-completed structure was, “I need to be involved.” Yet, with all the activities involved in hanging around with Cameron, I soon forgot about my plans to investigate the festivities surrounding its dedication. Then, about one week later, I was walking to my bedroom, intending to go to sleep, when the thought struck me again, “I need to be involved.”

Not one to ignore repeated subconscious messages, instead of going directly to bed I turned to my computer, signed online, and found the website for the memorial. Sure enough, I had just enough time before the deadline to fill out my application to volunteer and fax it in. I was thrilled! Apparently my subconscious has very good timing. I faxed my application in the very next day and eagerly waited to hear back. They said that they were getting lots of applications, and that they couldn’t accept everybody. Applicants had to have credentials and such to fit the available positions. I was feeling rather nervous and inadequate, but I faxed it in nonetheless. Surely my subconscious had plans that I didn’t know about; with timing like that, you can’t ask questions, you just do as you’re told.

I owe my subconscious a cookie – my application was accepted!!! I’m really, *really* excited!! I can’t wait for the big orientation meeting where I’ll be given my assignment. There are apparently a lot of different dedication events and ceremonies, even one at one of my all-time favorite DC buildings – the Washington National Cathedral. Apparently the President’s going to attend that one! (Well, honestly, I bet he’s going to attend a lot of the dedication events, that’s just the only one I know of for certain that he’s going to be at.) On my application I was sure to mention my experience volunteering in nursing homes and working with the elderly. There are going to be lots of veterans there and the site said they need a lot of help ushering the old people around and pushing wheelchairs and such. I’d love to do that, but honestly, I don’t care what they have me do, so long as I’m there and I’m involved. It’s going to be a really historic event and here I am, right in the middle of it all. Yay! It just can’t get any better than this.

Apparently all of the volunteers are going to get a nifty golf shirt, a baseball hat, and a “shoulder tote”, all with the insignia of the memorial staff. Only the volunteers will get this stuff, so I’m psyched about that too. I really hope they let me take pictures, I want to document all of this and make a lovely little section of the blog all about it. Hooray!

Can you tell I’ve missed my blog? It was down for, what, three days? Even though I’ve gone that long without blogging before, it felt different knowing the blog wasn’t actually here. That no one was reading it. It bothered me, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As I was sitting in the shower the other day (where all my best thoughts and revelations come to me), I finally realized why I love blogging so much. It’s not about how many people read it, or even if other people read it at all when you get right down to it.


The truth is, it’s a balm for my greatest phobia. My greatest fear has always been losing my mind, forgetting who I am, never being able to remember what my life is all about. I used to have a very specific memory, I could recall distinct conversations from back when I was only a toddler and my brothers played with me, or when my brother Tim taught me how to tie my shoes. But ever since I had that brain infection, I’ve been forgetting things. My memory isn’t as good anymore. I can’t remember exactly what I talked about with whom only a week ago. Heck, sometimes I can’t even remember who I told what as recent as yesterday. That used to really scare me. It still does in some ways, but my blog alleviates most of that fear. It allows me to deposit most of my important memories in a safe place. Every blog entry on here just about is saved in two places – both online and in a massive word document (so far, two years of blogging text equals well over 15mb). Here on my blog, I can write about things that – from the outside – may seem somewhat impersonal or vague at times. But I leave clues for myself, little triggers to remind me of larger events, so that several years down the road when I read back through what I’ve written, memories resurface. It’s like having my own secret code or language, and yet at the same time, that code is still readable – but most of the time unbreakable – to everyone else. In short, this blog is a readable, storable, searchable extra brain. It’s my own memory bank.

And I love it. I’m so glad I was exposed to blogging all those many years ago. I’ve been blogging for two and a half years now, leaving me with nearly day-to-day accounts of my life, my friends, my family, my activities; everything I love and never want to forget. Of course, there are some things in this blog that at times I would like to forget, but in the end, both the good and the bad make up who I am today. And to forget how I got here is to erase the joy of the journey, and in effect, erase who I am. Hence why I’ve always been so afraid of losing my mind. That’s also the reason that whenever I see someone like Ronald Reagan or Rita Hayworth, I’m reduced to tears. For Ronald Reagan to have lived such an amazingly varied and full life, and never to have written his memories down, imagine how much we’ve lost. Everything we could have learned from him is gone. Whether you agree with the man’s politics or not is beside the point, we still could all learn from the events of his life.


With Rita Hayworth, I feel a strange connection with her. I had always thought she was fascinating, but it wasn’t until a few months ago when I saw a documentary of her life that I realized there were so many similarities between her and I. What we wanted out of life, how we were perceived in certain situations. And then for her to have lost her mind due to Alzheimer’s at such a young age, it’s devastating. She was only in her forties when she started to forget. She never recorded her life either. Sure, there are people who knew her. Sure, we have a history of her career. But we didn’t get to hear it from her. We never saw the private side, the private inner perceptions, the life lessons learned.

I’ve felt strange connections like this one I have with Rita Hayworth before. My Uncle Bud is missing four of his fingers due to a work-related accident. For as long as I can remember, his hand has always been that way. I remember when I was young, around four or so, we all gathered at my Grandmother’s house for Christmas. There I was with Uncle Bud and I was fascinated with his hand. It made me slightly uncomfortable, I was afraid to touch it, until I came to realize that I shouldn’t be frightened, that I shouldn’t let it bother me. “After all,” I thought to myself, “something like that may happen to me some day,” and I’d have to deal with it just as Uncle Bud had to deal with his amputation. Sure enough, twelve years later, I had to go through my own amputation process. Even though the circumstances were different, the end result was almost the same. Although, I think my end result was easier to deal with. I can hide mine in a shoe; Uncle Bud never could hide his injury.

I’m coping with my phobia, and I think my blog plays a large part in that. I’m documenting my life for my own sake and for the sake of my future family. I intend to keep it. Some people ask me why I don’t just keep a regular journal. It’s not the same for some reason. First off, there’s the perk of being able to search through the blog for specific entries. You can’t really do that with paper as expeditiously as you can with a computer. But more than that, I like the feedback, I like the fact that my memories then become someone else’s memories in a way, so it keeps it going. It keeps my memories alive in more than one way. I appreciate knowing that something that has influenced me or touched me or helped me, can then turn around and do the same for someone else. After blogging, personal journaling seems somehow selfish to me. I understand it for highly personal things, but for every day joys, why not share it? I just love blogging, and I don’t think I could ever truly give this up.