The Hunger of Memory

This is what Ken's blog will ultimately be about, especially when considering he was the repository of all that could be humanly remembered within our family. I was not surprised at all when he told me how he could remember and describe is perfect detail the apartment that he lived in in Rockville Centre before I was born, all before the age of 2 years and 9 months.
With Ken was lost a treasure trove of detail I can never hope to recall, even of my own life, though some will return in "dribs and drabs" as he would say. I have no doubt Ken could have told me everything else we did in Manhattan the day he took that photo of me on what was then the RCA building.
His memory cut both ways, as he remembered everything, but could forget nothing.
Without exaggeration, Ken could easily recall any time in his life in detail within a two week time frame, usually with a level of detail that was frightening. All you had to do was ask, "Ken, what was going on during the third week of April, 19xx (not to mention 20xx), and he would only have to pause for 5 to 10 seconds before you would get your response. Not just about himself, but about all kinds of news at that time, including baseball scores.
Ken was fully aware of the double-edged sword his memory was. It took many years for him to find some way to stop dwelling on the negative memories and relish the best of times, and eventually he did. Yet, the damage had been done deep within, and he would insist on dwelling in it all, alone in his room, black curtains drawn.