Friday, August 10, 2007


I know that it's possible to imagine bits of one's past through rose colored glasses. I'm sure my own memories are swayed by photographs and images that take over the actual reality. But what I don't understand is why I would make up or imagine something that has very little significance.

I tend to get canker sores, you know, the horrible little things that make eating and sometimes speaking detestable? Mine tend to surface in groups of three to six at a time. I know, lovely topic of conversation. Every couple of months I am attacked by them, whether from stress or acidic food, I'm not sure, but they come and threaten my very livelihood.

The last time this happened when I was visiting my parents, I walked into the kitchen to prepare the remedy I had been taught as a child. I selected a small glass from the cabinet, poured in a teaspoon or so of salt, and then ran the faucet with as hot of water as possible. Once the steam was rising I placed my glass of salt underneath the water and filled it 3/4 of the way full. I then took a mouthful of the salt-water and swished it around in my mouth. I repeated this until I had used all of the water from the glass. I'm not sure if my mom walked in while I was doing this, or if I told her that I had "medicated" the sores.

Mom: "Why did you do that?"

Ginger: "Because that's what we've always done for canker sores."

Mom: "Why?"

Ginger: "That's what you told us to do when we were growing up!"

Mom: "WHAT? NO!!"

Ginger: "Are you kidding me? We've done this our whole lives. Maybe 10 times a year."

Mom: "NO! Why would I tell you to do that?"


And so, I pose the question to you, reader: Why would I make something like that up? The memory is vivid. I think I can even see my mother making up the glass of salt-water for me. I know I can. The amazing thing about my mysterious sister remembers it too. Sorry Kerry. It happened. You taught it to us. And now, you are reading this on saltwatercoke...

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