Day 20 Memory

6/16/18
Memory is such a strange phenomenon. Somewhere in our brain there are cells that must make a connection to our soul where I suspect our memories are stored. Anatomists would say the temporal lobe holds these recollections of our past but even as a scientist, MD, I have serious doubts. I find it hard to believe that these happenings, so vivid sometimes, can be stored in simple cells and their connected circuitry.
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Today we ride from Huron to Bowling Green leaving behind Lake Erie. In fact I will see no more of the Great Lakes on this trek as I head inland towards the Mississippi River a hundred miles south of Chicago, and then turn north ever approaching the Canadian border to within 3 miles of our Northern Neighbor in Eureka, Montana.
The ride is through rich farmland…wheat, corn and soybeans, hundreds of thousands of acres…all shades of green.

 

 

 

 

Angel and I decided  to stop for a while …Flossie wanted to flirt with a mule…not sure now interested the mule was…

 

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It’s important to be patient with special companions.
I recall this ride from before. Up ahead I see the Ohio Turnpike which I will go under …my memories flood back from three years ago. I can recall the next two miles in perfect detail, yard by yard. I remember what I was thinking in great detail, a story I was writing in my head, the rain, the slick road, the fields of green. I recall realizing my belly was smaller than the start. ( I look down today and decide that yet again it has become smaller 3 weeks out).
My eyes go back three years…I pass under the Turnpike and see two riders some 300 yards ahead. One suddenly falls and then the other. I ride to them as fast as I can to help…one has a concussion another a severely bruised arm and leg…both have gotten caught in wet railroad tracks.
My mind flicks back to the present, there are 5 riders around me…I quickly flit back and forth to warn them about dangerous tracks 300 yards ahead. They can see nothing but I am emphatic and point to a barely visible yellow sign…
“ They are there! Be careful when you pass!”
As we all approach the tracks become apparent, set wide apart at a wicked angle that eat bicycle tires with ease.
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My companions look to me surprised, thank me, and walk their bikes across.
I recall three years ago thinking that my Guardian Angel had made me lag behind to watch others fall and then to be of help.
Today I look around and thank that same Angel for pulling that memory from my soul to prevent the same happening again.
10 miles on I come to a farm on the side of the road and more vivid memories return.
I stopped to talk to a farmer near the road to admire his crops, to tell him that this was “God’s Country”.  That is the first time I ever used that particular phrase on that trip but I heard it so many times afterwards from locals who were proud of their home.
Today I stop at that same farm and look around, same green crops, same God’s Land, same road, but no farmer. He was old then, I wonder if he is still alive, and then ride on.
I pull into the farm where I will spend the night and look to the fields around me…it is as if I have never left…I was here for 10 hours three years ago.
I do not pretend to understand memory. Somewhere, somehow, for some reason those happenings are stored for future use.
I look to Angel and Flossie who are shuffling what appears to be a deck of cards but in fact are shimmering, flimsy, filmy clouds. With a smile from both I get some knowing winks.
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I suspect those two know the truth about memory…

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