June Griggs in a letter-to-the-editor (SJS, Wed., Nov. 25, 2009), rightly reminded us readers of things for which we can be thankful.  She included abstractions of love, health, being an American and concrete items, readily take for granted, like wardrobes and houses. We are also thankful for memories.
Indeed, one of the life’s joys is recalling special moments.
The song “Thanks for the Memories,” tenderly sung by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross and part of American culture, does that. Their rendition is not to be confused with the raunchy song—unfortunately, with the same title—by some ridiculous contemporary group named Fall Out Boy.  One of their lesser objectionable  lyrics says thanks for memories, “even tho [sic] they weren’t great.”  Contrast that with Hope and Ross remembering “Schubert’s Serenade” and “rainbows on a wave” in their  lyrics.
We can guarantee that Hope/Ross will continue into posterity while Fall Out will—well —fall out of any repertoire and justly so.
When we do recall special moments, we should take time to write to the individuals who helped make them.  What joy it is for individuals to receive a thank-you letter (though, sadly, a rarity these days) from others for making a memory possible.  Memories might be about amusing outcomes when a practical joke was played by a group of friends during a winter weekend excursion or about the laughter occurring when our sister and father tell about an absolutely confusing time because someone misheard the word “praying mantis” as “turkey.”
Several students at Charleston Southern University spent time thinking and writing about memories after returning to campus following their holiday break.  Their memories are simple, yet meaningful, involving Clemson games and ”interesting conversations” (Lauren Deas).  Chelsea Henson thanks her friend Tim for the “red mud” incident; Henson writes about her younger years when mud-slinging on a Sunday before church turned her hair and Tim’s shirt red.
In Laura Nielson’s letter, she thanks her friend Will for a summer memory.  She writes descriptively: “It was a fun summer day where the sun dries up any care or worry. . . .”  Marilyn Moyers also writes to a friend about a summer memory at the fair, using specific details about rides (“The Drop”) and prizes ( a purple and white bear).
William Davis’ memory is of a recent mountain trip.  He, too, thanks in specifics by referring to the mountains as “peaceful” protectors. Nikki Deschaine recalls a childhood shared with former neighbor Brittany.  Deschaine  writes about summer games like “kick the can” and “hide and seek,” as well as about a winter when snow in South Carolina availed her and her friend the chance to make snow angels and, thus, make what Deschaine calls “my favorite memory of our friendship.”
Although it is said, “memory is what we forget with,” memory is also what we remember with.  Isn’t it time for each of us to pick up a pen and let another know that we do?