Rusty Saber: Memories of decades past remain sharp

Some events are so vivid that people remember not only the events, but also what they were doing at the time they occurred. Even those of us not blessed with memories of pinpoint accuracy can recall minute details of long ago events. It's as if a photograph was snapped at the moment and stored inside the brain to be called up when the event comes to mind.

In my case, two kinds of events are so clear in my mind that a mental photograph appears when the event itself is recalled: personal events and news events.

Certain personal events in my life are so graphic that when I think about them, a mental photo reminds me of where I was, what I was doing and thinking.

If I should live to see the end of the 21st century, I will remember the exact moment I realized I was in the U.S. Navy. Stepping off a bus at the San Diego Naval Training Center, a group of us recruits were met by a petty officer who reminded me of a bulldog. His white hat worn at eye level, his chin thrust forward, he avowed that we were the most vile dredges of human debris he had ever seen, while flattering us with talk of how the Navy would perform a miracle and make men out of us. My mental photo includes the large sign behind him that read "Welcome aboard. You are a member of the United States Navy, the greatest Navy in the world." The "greeter" wasn't from Welcome Wagon; he didn't make me feel welcome. Four years later, the moment of my Navy discharge is just as vivid. The image is as clear today as when I walked through the door of the separation center, a free man.

Like most anyone who has ever been married, I remember the moment I knew I was married to the woman with whom I wanted to share my life. That moment is forever frozen in time. The same is true of the births of our two children. Although they are long since grown, with children of their own, I can remember the relief I felt when I knew they had arrived and that they and my wife were OK. I can accurately describe the scene in the hospital and the thoughts that crossed my mind. I may have forgotten other things that happened on both occasions, but the moment the children were born will be with me forever.

In a past column I recounted my first day as a high school teacher. The moment before I stepped into the classroom is captured for all eternity in a mental photo. I even remember what I was wearing (No, it wasn't a toga, I'm not quite that old). I related in that column that I whispered to myself: "It's showtime." It became a ritual that was continued throughout my teaching career.

When it comes to national news events, there are three that are forever etched in my mental scrapbook. The first is an event remembered by almost everyone who was alive at the time: the death of President John F. Kennedy. Like so many others, I remember exactly what I was doing at the moment I learned of the president's death. I was teaching at the same high school mentioned above. During the noon hour, a fellow teacher hailed me to say he had heard that something had happened to Kennedy. We ran to the school office where several students and teachers were gathered around a radio. As we entered, the commentator announced that the president had died. If pressed, I could name the people gathered around the radio; the memory is that graphic.

I remember the moment in 1956 when I heard that New York Yankee pitcher Don Larsen had pitched the only perfect game in World Series history, against the Brooklyn Dodgers. I was aboard a Navy ship. Due to the time difference between New York and the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it was a delayed radio broadcast of the game. The moment the game ended is crystal clear in my mind; the mental photo includes where I was on the ship and what I was thinking.

As with the Kennedy assassination, people remember what they were doing when Neil Armstrong first stepped onto the surface of the moon. Most Americans watched it on TV. I was listening on the car radio as I drove to Columbia. As the moment neared for Armstrong to make his historic leap, I stopped on the side of the road. I was so in awe that I stopped to let the magic of the moment soak in. Memory is strange; I remember these long ago events as if they happened yesterday, but I can't remember what I did yesterday.

(Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication department at Drury University and a Springfield public relations consultant.)