I read Joseph Mitchell’s story on Lady Olga and fell in love with his way of character descriptions. I then read his unfinished third chapter of what was going to be his memoir. He directly analyzes memory in this part:

“In the fall of 1968, without at first realizing what was happening to me, I began living in the past. These days, when I reflect on this and add up the years that have gone by, I can hardly believe it: I have been living in the past for over twenty years—living mostly in the past, I should say, or living in the past as much as possible.”

I’ve only lived nineteen years, and I don’t have moments that I want to move back to just yet. Yet, while working on my life history project of my dad, I find that he wants more than anything to live in the past. He struggles day to day with his disease, since he found out about it four years ago. Our lives changed when my dad got sick. He was the breadwinner of the family, the rock that tied us all together. He then needed us to be his rock. It was the most hard on him, he felt like a burden, or a small child that had to be constantly taken care of. He went through a succession of doctors, constantly telling him bad news. We lost our home to foreclosure during my senior year of high school and he had to shut down his business. Those years became so unpleasant, it didn’t seem like our family could catch a break.

Just one month ago my dad was approved for an experimental cure that was just released for his disease. Suddenly doctors were telling him he had a chance and it ignited the determined character my dad had thought he lost inside himself. The next few months he has left on the treatment are going to be just as hard as his fight before but this cure will give him the ability to look towards the future and what amazing moments he has to look forward to.