"Last summer, I forgot my friend Norman’s birthday."

Dave Pell, on what it means to have our heads in the cloud, as he puts it:

Recently, our babysitter was struck by a car just a few steps from our front door. Luckily, none of her injuries were life threatening. Her cell phone, however, was brutalized beyond recognition.

Before heading to the emergency room, I climbed into the back of the ambulance where I asked her if she wanted me to call her boyfriend. She said she did, but she didn't know his telephone number. It was lost along with her now obliterated cell phone, and she had never committed the number to memory.

I remember the phone number to the very first house I lived in, when I was 4, even though I haven't used it since I was in first grade. But I could not tell you my father's cellphone number, which has remained unchanged for at least 5 years. (Mark helpfully explains why this is.) [Tweetage Wasteland via Daring Fireball]


Memory [Forever] is our week-long consideration of what it really means when our memories, encoded in bits, flow in a million directions, and might truly live forever.

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No one remember my birthday until the information was added to my Facebook page.