Sunday, February 4, 2007
Mom and I have finished watching...
...After Life. I was incorrect in remembering that Nishimura Kiyo does not speak. At one point, early in the movie, since the facility grounds are experiencing autumn and there are no flowers on the grounds when she spends some time collecting natural trinkets, she asks if the grounds ever host flowers. She also asks if the cherry trees bloom. For those of you who have seen the movie, I should mention, too, that I willfully misrepresented the premise of the movie in the immediately previous post. The script never says that one lives for eternity within one's chosen memory; rather, than one picks one moment of one's life that will be the only memory one retains of one's mortal life when one continues beyond the facility. I knew this at the time I wrote the previous post. What I wrote is my preference regarding Hirokazu Kore-eda's premise. The first time I watched the movie, I was bothered that nothing else is revealed about eternity beyond the facility except for the retention of a chosen memory from one's wanderings in mortality. On second watching, somewhere in the middle of the movie, I realized that this lack of information is probably deliberate, as, one of the hallmarks of this life is lack of information about anything beyond this moment. I also considered that movie is the first I've viewed in which I feel as though I've been invited to recreate the movie in my mind to my specifications. With all other movies/videos, I've ever watched, when describing or thinking about them, I've always considered it of the utmost importance remember the movie as truly as possible when talking about it and, if that's not possible, either checking with the source to correct myself or mentioning the sinkholes in my memory. I am delighted that this Hirokazu Kore-eda movie makes me feel as though my memory of the movie, my recreation of the movie, is a part of the movie. This is the first of his movies I've seen. I will be watching others of his that are available.
After the movie, my mother, while intrigued by it, mentioned that it surprised her. "I was expecting something different," she said. Although I didn't question her about this, which I should have, I suspect she was expecting something more conventional and less open to interpretation. She was clearly interested in the idea, though, and mentioned that "after my nap", she'd have to spend some time thinking about her choice for her one Eternal Memory. If she doesn't bring it up, I will probably remind her of her Fire on the Mountain memory, what she once wrote about it, and ask her if that would be her memory. I'm not at all sure it will be...nor am I sure that she will be able to single out one memory.
I have decided that if I were told I was going to spend eternity within one of my memories, it would be a memory having to do with being outside in a snowfall. If, however, I was pressed with the requirements that the movie sets on memory, I would probably pick a different one; not sure yet, what that would be.
All this memory stuff is taking place within curious circumstances, which began yesterday afternoon. Mom and I were doing something and, suddenly, she turned to me and said, "I'm going to go to Mt. Vernon [Iowa] tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"
Since the mention sounded innocent enough, I responded, "Sure. I'd love to. Are we going to a purpose, or without a plan?"
She mentioned to me that when she was in Mt. Vernon "about a month ago" she met with "some people" and needed to see them again "tomorrow" (which would be today).
I, of course, asked for the identities of the people. I assumed that they would be those relatives and friends of hers with whom she'd shared her time there. When she had trouble remembering the names of the people, I began to prompt her with the names of those I knew she'd known there. It seems, none of these people were any of the people she meant.
That was fine. What turned the amicable tide, though, was her insistence on making plans for the trip, which would, in her mind, be a day-trip excursion. I went along with this, too, until she developed some agitation over what I assume was a vague remembrance that we are approximately a couple thousand miles from Mt. Vernon and that, apparently, I was at the meeting that took place a month ago but couldn't remember anything about it. "I was counting on you to remember why we're going," she said. "I'm expected."
Oops! I had a couple of reactions to this. The first was a purely internal reaction. It occurred to me that "going to Mt. Vernon tomorrow" might be a muddled metaphor for "I'll be dying tomorrow." This didn't frighten me, but I was surprised that I came up with this possibility. The second reaction consisted of me asking her a variety of questions about the past and upcoming meetings, trying to determine if there was any significance to any of this. In short order, I managed to confuse both her and myself.
After breaking the realities involved in such a trip to her and assuring her that it isn't something we could do "tomorrow", I remembered that earlier in the day, while looking for something in our walk-in closet, I'd noticed a photo album that her mother had put together for Mom some years prior to her death and Mom's college yearbook from the year she graduated. In an attempt to steer the conversation away from anymore agitated confusion, I retrieved both. This not only "did the trick", I was surprised at how much my mother did and did not remember from her life as we looked at the photographs. That was when I remembered that we'd received the copy of After Life and made a mental note to myself to be sure and watch the movie after Mom retired.
So, now, we're at the point where Mom is napping over the consideration of the one memory she'd like retain for eternity. I don't know where the rest of this Act will take us. It's possible it won't take us anywhere...or that, when my mother awakens, she will have lost interest and I will discover that the Act is over and we're on to the next.
In the meantime, I wonder, if you died right now and discovered that you were required to forget all except one memory as you entered an eternal afterlife, what memory would you choose? If you are a caregiver to an Ancient One (or More), whether or not the Ancient One is experiencing dementia, do you know enough about that person's life to take a stab at guessing what memory they might choose?
Finally, and most importantly, what thoughts does this consideration evoke for you regarding the process of recollection and the creation of memory?
After the movie, my mother, while intrigued by it, mentioned that it surprised her. "I was expecting something different," she said. Although I didn't question her about this, which I should have, I suspect she was expecting something more conventional and less open to interpretation. She was clearly interested in the idea, though, and mentioned that "after my nap", she'd have to spend some time thinking about her choice for her one Eternal Memory. If she doesn't bring it up, I will probably remind her of her Fire on the Mountain memory, what she once wrote about it, and ask her if that would be her memory. I'm not at all sure it will be...nor am I sure that she will be able to single out one memory.
I have decided that if I were told I was going to spend eternity within one of my memories, it would be a memory having to do with being outside in a snowfall. If, however, I was pressed with the requirements that the movie sets on memory, I would probably pick a different one; not sure yet, what that would be.
All this memory stuff is taking place within curious circumstances, which began yesterday afternoon. Mom and I were doing something and, suddenly, she turned to me and said, "I'm going to go to Mt. Vernon [Iowa] tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"
Since the mention sounded innocent enough, I responded, "Sure. I'd love to. Are we going to a purpose, or without a plan?"
She mentioned to me that when she was in Mt. Vernon "about a month ago" she met with "some people" and needed to see them again "tomorrow" (which would be today).
I, of course, asked for the identities of the people. I assumed that they would be those relatives and friends of hers with whom she'd shared her time there. When she had trouble remembering the names of the people, I began to prompt her with the names of those I knew she'd known there. It seems, none of these people were any of the people she meant.
That was fine. What turned the amicable tide, though, was her insistence on making plans for the trip, which would, in her mind, be a day-trip excursion. I went along with this, too, until she developed some agitation over what I assume was a vague remembrance that we are approximately a couple thousand miles from Mt. Vernon and that, apparently, I was at the meeting that took place a month ago but couldn't remember anything about it. "I was counting on you to remember why we're going," she said. "I'm expected."
Oops! I had a couple of reactions to this. The first was a purely internal reaction. It occurred to me that "going to Mt. Vernon tomorrow" might be a muddled metaphor for "I'll be dying tomorrow." This didn't frighten me, but I was surprised that I came up with this possibility. The second reaction consisted of me asking her a variety of questions about the past and upcoming meetings, trying to determine if there was any significance to any of this. In short order, I managed to confuse both her and myself.
After breaking the realities involved in such a trip to her and assuring her that it isn't something we could do "tomorrow", I remembered that earlier in the day, while looking for something in our walk-in closet, I'd noticed a photo album that her mother had put together for Mom some years prior to her death and Mom's college yearbook from the year she graduated. In an attempt to steer the conversation away from anymore agitated confusion, I retrieved both. This not only "did the trick", I was surprised at how much my mother did and did not remember from her life as we looked at the photographs. That was when I remembered that we'd received the copy of After Life and made a mental note to myself to be sure and watch the movie after Mom retired.
So, now, we're at the point where Mom is napping over the consideration of the one memory she'd like retain for eternity. I don't know where the rest of this Act will take us. It's possible it won't take us anywhere...or that, when my mother awakens, she will have lost interest and I will discover that the Act is over and we're on to the next.
In the meantime, I wonder, if you died right now and discovered that you were required to forget all except one memory as you entered an eternal afterlife, what memory would you choose? If you are a caregiver to an Ancient One (or More), whether or not the Ancient One is experiencing dementia, do you know enough about that person's life to take a stab at guessing what memory they might choose?
Finally, and most importantly, what thoughts does this consideration evoke for you regarding the process of recollection and the creation of memory?
