I Remember That

Yankee Stadium just closed its gates for the last time, ending it’s run as the best sports venue of all time. To honor the House that Ruth built, Yankee Stadium was the site of the Major League All Star Game in July. Mike and Paul, two guys I went to school with back when the Beatles were in their prime, are huge Yankee fans so I decided to tell them a couple of stories about memorable games I attended at the Big Ballpark.
My all time favorite was on June 21, 1959. It was a Father’s Day double header against the Cleveland Indians. The Indians won both games and Rocky Colavito hit a home run in each game. I wasn’t there with my father that day. Along with three other kids in the neighborhood, I took the 118 bus to the New York Port Authority, the A train to 59th and the D train to 161st and River Ave. We each paid $1.50 for a general admission seat.
That wasn’t my first trip to Yankee Stadium though. So I had to tell Mike and Paul about my first game too. That’s when I got into trouble. The year was 1954. I was six years old. My father took me to that game and the Yankees beat the White Sox 9-4 behind rookie sensation, Bob Grim. Only it never happened. Not in 1954 or 1955 for that matter. The Yankees didn’t beat anybody 9-4 in Yankee Stadium that year or the next. How do I know? I went on line and checked the Baseball Almanac. Memory is a funny thing. If you asked me 30 years ago, or even the day before I sent the email to my buddies, about my first trip to the Big Ballpark I would have said with complete confidence it was 1954, the Yankees beat the White Sox 9-4. Bob Grim was the winning pitcher.
You know, I was very fond of that memory. Notwithstanding what the Baseball Almanac says, I called my father see what he remembered. He thought it was the Polo Grounds, New York Giants versus the St Louis Cardinals.
The World Wide Web, so loaded with information on so many topics, is a marvel; maybe the most incredible thing since Gutenberg’s printing press. There’s no question the Web has become indispensible for many of us. As a writer I am very grateful for the Net. Only now I wonder if it’s too easy to dig up things that should be left alone. Precious memories are a case in point. When you discover that something so ingrained in your memory never actually happened, it shakes your foundation you know? What other recollections do I have rolling around in my head that are nothing more than figments of my imagination?
Future generations probably won’t have such conundrums to deal with. What hasn’t been captured on the Web as a matter of public information, they will no doubt capture themselves and put it on MySpace. From their moment of birth to school days, birthdays, weddings and anniversaries, much of what our children and grandchildren do will be documented and available to the world. No need to wonder whether Aunt Stella was there for your Christening or whether your cousin Jimmy really punched your best man during the wedding rehearsal dinner. You’ll be able to go to your personal library and find the event. Could memory as we know it cease to exist? I mean if it’s all easily retrieved on your computer, just waiting in cyberspace anytime you want to access it, will we become too lazy or otherwise preoccupied to reflect on our experiences and, over time learn from them?
Nicholas Carr posed that very question in an article he wrote for Atlantic Monthly. In his article, Is Google Making Me Stupid, he says, “…I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory.”
If studies should prove that the Internet does affect the way we think and our ability to remember, maybe future generations won’t have to worry about discovering some long held memory was wrong. Computers, serving as our adjunct brains, will keep memories straight with no worry that time or life experience will jumble several events together to form ersatz but satisfying memories. Memories will always be clinically correct. Isn’t that great?

Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.