From His Newsletter: I was struck by how often, say, a college friend responded to a question I had about a senior-year episode that I considered pivotal with the assertion that some other senior-year episode — one I didn’t even remember — was more consequential. We didn’t have conflicting memories so much as entirely different ones. In my brain, “Brideshead Revisited” was playing. In the friend’s, “Saltburn.”

Americans have been focused lately on our two leading presidential candidates’ failures of recollection. That subject indeed warrants attention: The availability and accuracy of memories are important yardsticks of cognitive health.

But they’re not the only ones. And memories are reliably fickle. (How’s that for an oxymoron?) We lose track of memories we don’t need. We purge memories we don’t want. Consciously or unconsciously, we edit our memories into narratives that conform to our chosen senses of ourselves. They’re two-thirds documentary, one-third historical fiction. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

From me: I have written here before about the differential nature of memory. Michael Feirtag forgot 50 years ago about telling me to buzz off, breaking my heart. The TA who gave me a passing grade on my 18.02 quiz, granting me my MIT degree, couldn’t pick me out of a lineup. Doesn’t even know what she did. Just, maybe, remembers talking to me about Charlton Heston (probably).

Those of you who haven’t written as much as I have (several million words) may not have this experience, but I am always thrilled to see my thoughts expressed exactly and in better words. I’m not jealous, just overjoyed and impressed and spurred to better expression in the future. There is comfort in discovering that “It’s not just me.”