There is something uniquely satisfying about nailing down the exact date of an old memory, and seeing exactly where it takes place in the vast tapestry of history.
I can even put a precise date on my very earliest memory in life - when my Aunty Val and Uncle Sol got married in late 1977, when I was nearly three years old. For years I thought it was either the birth of my little sister, or seeing the first Superman at the movies, but I now know they categorically came later.
(I am now overly concerned over what the kids' earliest memories will be, since they are right in that age zone when those memories are formed. I'm fairly sure the 4-year-old will always remember the light show at a planetarium she saw more than a year ago, because she was dreaming about how poor Pluto was out alone in the infinite of space for a long time afterward. That's not a bad first memory, all thing considered.)
Sometimes you can staple a personal life development to a big news event. We moved house when I was 9, from Timaru to Temuka, a distance of a whopping 13 kays, and I never, ever saw any of my old mates again. (I found one online the other day, and he's got a weird and impressive expertise that I'm too intimidated to say hello again. Sorry, Jamie.)
And I know that the move out to Temuka was on 14 July because that's when the NZ Labour Party won the 1984 general election. Big national events line up with big life changes.
Unsurprisingly, it's Doctor Who that helps me nail down some dates, because the transmission of episodes is one of those things the wider fandom have taken great delight in cataloging, and I can figure out the exact dates of my earliest Who memories, with much confusion over who was the real Who
None of this means anything to anybody but me, but if this ability to put exact dates on ancient personal memories is so personally satisfying, maybe we could all do with a bit more knowledge of where we were, in space and time, for a little while.
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