Chapter 1: The Duality of Memory

Memory is often seen as a virtue, but its true nature can be complex. My father often claimed that his memory was his greatest asset. Excelling in school, he achieved top marks and had a prestigious career as an accountant. His secret? He believed he could absorb information effortlessly after just one reading.

However, as he aged, he began to suffer from intense migraines and depression, ultimately becoming a shadow of his former self. By the time he passed away at 90, he was not only unhappy and delusional but had also lost that remarkable memory he once cherished. The question arises: should we measure memory by its quantity or its quality? Is life merely a contest of recollection?

Reflecting on my father's life, I wondered if his extraordinary memory was, in fact, a curse—a failure to forget the burdens of his past. Given his rigid and often troubling views, the weight of his memories seemed to take a toll on him.

In a video I created about him, he recounted how an injury during a high school football game had defined his athletic career. It seemed he clung to this incident, using it as an excuse for his anger.

In the same video, he read a poem criticizing President Franklin Roosevelt. When I was a child, he would lecture me on his beliefs, which painted a bleak picture of the New Deal and the events leading up to World War II. He even held Roosevelt responsible for his decision to join the Navy instead of pursuing an FBI career.

As a teenager, I grew weary of his relentless diatribes, which ultimately drove me to study journalism—an occupation he despised, considering it part of the "liberal media." My choice was a reaction against the systemic injustices he supported and his nostalgia for a past where people like him held power.

Before his struggles with mental health, I began to question the notion that a perfect memory equated to a good life, likening it to a sealed container filled with spoiled food. With my own decent memory, evidenced by my success on quiz shows, I resolved to curate my memories carefully. My father's decline reinforced this idea; I wanted to avoid a similar fate.

Your memories shape your identity. If you wish to present a favorable narrative, editing becomes essential.

Chapter 2: The Process of Memory Curation

Recently, I received news of a friend's passing due to a swift illness. Although we had lost touch, seeing his image stirred feelings of nostalgia and guilt. Yet, I soon recalled many joyful moments we shared, prompting me to dig out old photographs. I allowed myself to mourn, but within a couple of hours, I felt ready to move on.

In sports, I've also noticed a shift. After watching my favorite team, Bayern München, suffer a last-minute defeat, I initially felt anger. Yet, in just ten minutes, that feeling faded.

During a recent match, I was fouled hard. In my youth, I would have retaliated, but instead, I chose to shrug it off and even joked about the incident. This ability to curate my experiences has been liberating.

Memory curation might sound mechanical, yet it mirrors how we interact with technology. By storing memories digitally—photos, documents, social media—we free our minds to embrace new experiences. If my father had utilized a computer, he might have found solace in offloading his burdens, a luxury he never had.

However, my father's mind was not merely a storage device. Like a computer, it could become overloaded, leading to a breakdown. Yet, unlike machines, he carried emotional weight—his unresolved feelings and memories led to profound sadness that even his family couldn't fully understand.

Through my father's experiences, I've gleaned valuable lessons:

1. Persistent anger can destroy your life and those around you.
2. Clinging to grievances gives you a reason to blame others for your disappointments.
3. Forgetting trivial details is not a failure; it’s often irrelevant to your journey.
4. Memories shaped by others can overshadow your own; prioritize genuine experiences.

Ultimately, it's crucial to recognize significant memories and cherish them while letting go of the trivial. Writing down or sharing less important memories can help declutter your mind. Remember, the ability to forget is a gift, enabling you to focus on what truly matters.