March 8, 1987

I'm not sure how certain memories stay strong in my mind. Especially those which seem at the surface decidedly unremarkable.

March 8, 1987, was an unusually warm late winter Sunday here in Detroit. It hit 75 that day, and that may still be the record. I was with my son Frank, who was about 14 months old then. I don't remember at all where my wife and oldest son were, only that Frank and I were home alone most of the day.

My son and I ate hot dogs for lunch and went to a school park a block away. I held him in my lap and we swung gently on a swing; a couple times I put him snugly in the kids' size swing and pushed him a little less gently but never too hard. We climbed atop the small slide and slid down several times. Often Frank simply toddled around as I followed, picking up this or that for intense study before dropping it when interest waned.

The sun shone bright and, as I said, it was warm. And I've always remembered it as a nice day yet on a very deep level. If there's such a thing as sublimity, I learned it on March 8, 1987.

Dating Patrick

"Hey Marty, do remember how cold it was on October 2, 1974, that we had snow flurries?"

"Well, no, I can't say that I do."

"Oh. It was warm enough four days later that we were wearing shorts again."

"No kidding?" This is a typical quick conversation with my brother Patrick. He has always had a fascination with dates and can remember things far out of my memory. You tell him the exact date of your birth and he will immediately tell you the day of the week it was. He has the calendar ingrained in his mind for 800 years: 400 years forward and 400 years back. There's a cycle to it he tells me, but I can't fathom it. It's all pretty amazing. And as demonstrated, he can recall things I never would.

We all remember birthdays. Pat would tell me when my kids were 1,000, 2,000, and 3,000 days old. The anniversaries of auto accidents, or the day the family got a dog or cat, when he first ate pizza, he remembers like yesterday. And then there's the odd factoid like the cold on 10/2/74, or the record warmth on April 12, 1977.

It was 89. I know because he told me so. And you can look it up.