Today is the anniversary of my father’s birthday. I only can ever independently recall three such dates, mine own obviously, my fathers as already stated, and my mothers, which coincidentally falls easily calculably close to Saint Georges day.
I do however recall any number of seemingly unimportant dates, without any personal connection to me, my family, or history whatsoever, suggesting I suppose some juxtaposition of import in my own particular case than is the general rule. The vagary of my memory is a constant perplexion, the uncanny ability to recall at the apparent drop of a hat the most insignificant of currently pertinent conversationally factoids, whilst often forgetting the simplest of proper nouns or commonalities.
For me recall tends to be somewhat arbitrary, having for one reason or another, all quite vital at the time, censured experience, circumstance, and occasion, from slight obtuseness to utter oblivion. Senility is of course a new and most entertaining component, problematically making it harder to recall what I am obliged to forget or permitted to remember.