In the realm of forgotten memories, I find myself revisiting one in particular. Back home in New Jersey, there used to be a cabinet filled with China that we’ve never eaten off. Buried deep in the recesses is a VHS tape recording of The Wizard of Oz. Apparently, 3 year old me was a terrible listener, almost as bad as I am a movie watcher now. I remember getting distracted by the scarecrow’s crippling desire for brains and asking aloud, “What’s a brain?” I can’t quite remember who was around at the time but someone answered, "A brain is what makes you smart, it helps you think."
Here, there’s a speckled lapse - the gears turned painstakingly in my small head, and after a moment, I drew the only thing that I felt was possible, after which there could be nothing left to conclude, "Mommy & Daddy have a brain."
This has become one of my favorite memories. I could not conceive a world where brains were not just one of the many other ingenious things you’d both personally invented. I was certain that the scarecrow could have avoided the whole mess by asking either of you for a brain. You would have given him one too. You were and are the creative, ethical, and intellectual epicenter of my entire universe, and even after all the schooling and work, I’m convinced that this introduction to the world was neither naive nor myopic. Things felt as complete then as they ever have, thanks to you.
How terribly lucky I am then that you have agreed to pull along this silly little scarecrow.