If I have no memory, am I still me?
Jonathan Carroll
294

I knew a guy who ran a record store most of his life. He was all about music, all kinds of music. He was very opinionated, loved a lot of stuff, hated even more, and would tell anyone his opinion.

One day, he has a massive stroke, but it didn’t kill him. What it did do is kill parts of his brain. He never really worked again, which was not a surprise. What was a surprise happened when he stopped in the store one day. They had just gotten in a bunch of 1950s doo wop 78s, something he had loved before. But he had no interest whatsoever. In fact, he didn’t care about any of the records or music at all. Instead, he was drawn to the stereo equipment, something he liked before, but not more than 50s doo wop records. In fact, he never went back to caring about music at all.

He was someone that people would have described as being a music freak. It was basically his very being. And it was gone. Not there anymore. As if it never existed. Was a real wake up call for me, reminding me that who people think we are, what they think represents us, is not all there is. You can lose a huge part of yourself and still be you, just a different you.

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