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<= Previous | July Issues
Index | Next => It was on this day in 1850 that my favorite US president, Millard Fillmore, took office following the untimely death Zachary Taylor. Alas, I'm the only one that remembers. Memories are such fleeting things.
A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day. Do not trust your memory, it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it. Memory is the greatest of artists, and effaces from your mind what is unnecessary. Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
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