Christina Littlefield
Memory is an interesting phenomenon.
Some people or places are ingrained in our memories as flawlessly as if we had instant replay in our brain. At other times we can’t remember what we had for dinner the night before.
It’s especially interesting what people remember about each other. At a family reunion over Spring Break, I got to hang out with about four dozen cousins I see only every four to five years. My second cousin Dan, a rancher in Clayton, N.M., was the first to give me a hug.
As I rapidly tried to place him and his relation to me, he bombarded me with questions that threw me for a loop, such as if I had learned to use “I” instead of “me” when I spoke. Apparently, when I had visited him as a little girl, I kept saying things such as “Me is tired” or “Me is hungry.” When corrected or admonished for talking like a baby, I would reply “but me can’t help it.” Since I was six or seven at the time, my baby talk became a running joke on their side of the family.
Not surprising, the fact that Dan owned a Frosty Freeze at the time was the only reason I remembered him. I thought it was so cool that I had a relative who owned the Southern equivalent of a Dairy Queen. We got to make our own self-serves.
The impression my vernacular had on my cousin Dan made me wonder what I would be remembered for post-college as my friends and I gathered to reminisce about life at Pepperdine. These are the best times of my life, (or was that high school?) so I should have lots of great memories, right?
Ironically, it’s not the “big events” that stay in your mind. Step Forward Day, Midnight Madness, Homecoming, even — and I’m risking sacrilege here — Songfest, all become a blur. Freshman year is so packed full of experiences that most fade to the background.
Instead, it is the tiny details, the random moments that make the biggest impression.
Again, I think it will be my vernacular that people will most remember about me. There is a reason I’m not going into broadcast journalism — I have difficulty pronouncing many common words, such as the nt’s and ing’s in words like mountain and singing. Sup- posedly I say “sinning” instead of “singing,” which could have huge ramifications on a Christian campus affiliated with a church known for its a capella singing. Can you just hear me trying to recruit someone? “There’s a lot of great ‘singing’ going on at Pepperdine.” The Admissions office will never hire me.
I’d rather be remembered for my brilliant writing style or my caring personality, but the thing is that you have no control over what people will remember about you. Often it is the tiniest incident that will remain in people’s minds forever. What you do in Frosh Follies alone can give you a stigma for the rest of your college career.
It is all of the bits and pieces, people and places, all of the memories combined that come together to form the college experience. The most important thing, then, is not what you are remembered for, but that you are remembered.
March 14, 2002