My memory is muddy

When I was living in Montréal with Paul and the kids, I used to watch Homicide.  I found it a quite remarkable show.

I’m watching it again, with Jeff, and if anything it’s even better than the first time around, as I think I am a more observant and trenchant critic.  But it’s sure got me thinking.

One of the episodes was even more powerful than usual, and I had two very strong memories of it.  One is of a scene where the mother of the shooter and the mother of the dead boy end up in the same waiting room.  I remembered a couple of pieces of that conversation accurately.

At the end of the show, I remember Yaphet Kotto as Giardello giving advice to the shooter, who’s about to spend the rest of his life in jail.  I remember them being outside, against a grey building.

It wasn’t Yaphet Kotto – it was Andre Braugher.  They weren’t outside, they were inside.

What I remembered was the emotional intensity.  I remembered a lot of what was said.  I just didn’t remember it accurately.

The older I get, the harder it is to be positive about anything.  I’ve straightened out that little bit of inaccuracy, but now all I can think of is Patricia saying, “Who are you going to believe, me or your lying eyes?”