Memory is a strange thing. A scent, a flavor, or a sound can bring forth a rush of vivid memories. For example, the scent of lemons and oranges recalls the memory of my grandmother’s kitchen. The scent of a pine tree made cloying by central heating recalls the memory of my fifth grade classroom. And the sound of Michael Jackson’s Thriller recalls the memory of the Christmas when I was in fourth grade.
My parents bought Thriller for my little brother, who’d been obsessed with Michael Jackson. Naturally, from the moment it was unwrapped, that album was played incessantly in our home. One might have thought our parents would have learned their lesson after they’d bought me Styx’s Kilroy Was Here a year or two before. (We still know the words to “Mr. Roboto” by heart.)
Listening to this track, I vividly recall the overcast day and the light in the apartment. I got a silvery green hologram sticker. A Transformers comic book. And I most distinctly remember the glow in the dark Construx set and the gummy-candy texture of its transparent tires.
But, can the song get me to recall anything we said to each other that day? Anything we did other than unwrap gifts? Sadly, it can not.