A few days ago I sent all of you a story called OUR GANG. It was about some kids who wanted to do battle with other kids. They didn't get along.
While about 85% of that story was just imagination, there truly was a particularly boy who lived on a street not far from mine and he was a mean kid. He beat up on us, had long, dirty fingernails but was good at certain games and sometimes we needed him.
He hurt me several times, almost fractured my skull, scratched me, etc.
He has come to mind now and then over the years and I can still see him as he was 78 YEARS AGO. I see his older sister too.
This morning, I was lying on my sofa watching Dr. OZ and I sat bolt upright and yelled out to nobody, 'HERBERT ST.' That was the name of Robert's street,' one I could not bring to mind if I had a shovel and could have dug deep to get it. Just pop, pop and there it was. HERBERT ST. I can't figure out why after so many years that came up.
The mind has a 'save' spot just like as computer. Fantastic, isn't it?
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