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Memory and forgetting as memoirs go

By Dave Riley
I've started to put together a few entries that could serve as a mix and match memoir. These contributions won't all be 'political' in intent although many no doubt will be.

I shall pass this exercise off with the pretentious name of palimpsest -- a noun whose meaning you can look up in your own good time.

My generation isn't as yet known for the cottage industry of memoir making but I'm sure that it is only a matter of time before old street fighters finally retire from their day jobs and start musing on days gone by. Some , among those I have known, have begun to muse so -- but these works tend to pander to nostalgia .

I doubt that this is about locating your place in history. Instead it should be about reviewing where you've come from and noting what you did en route. If it's about what you didn't do -- then maybe it's time you sort out a good shrink.

Although I'm not fixing to die or finish off doing anything I do, this piece from John Bunyan came upon me and it seemed strangely relevant:
When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, "I am going to my Father's; and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage; and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought his battles who now will be my Rewarder." When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the riverside; into which as he went he said, "Death, where is thy sting?" And as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy victory?" So he passed over; and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.
-- John Bunyan, Pilgrims Progress
My palimpsest is here.

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