Supreme Memory

Memory is a curious thing. I saw a small item in the Dallas Morning News: “Today in History”:

“1967: President Lyndon B. Johnson nominated Solicitor-General Thurgood Marshall to become the first black justice on the U.S. Supreme Court.”

At that time my family was living in Irving, Texas. I cleaned house and prepared gourmet meals for my demanding husband. My son Karl was slouching through junior high, making barely passing grades, while daughter Martha worked hard for her A’s in fourth grade and practiced piano without a reminder from Mommy. My little one, David, was only two.

I was involved in Girl Scouts, church activities, and the League of Women Voters. I was a busy woman. But you would think I would be aware – and remember – the public reaction to the historical nomination of a black man to the Supreme Court. I don’t.

I follow Supreme Court decisions, as they affect us in our lives daily. I have a good memory, most of the time. Why can’t I remember if there was opposition when Thurgood Marshall was nominated? He served with distinction.

Now there is all this hubbub over the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor. I am outraged at the opposition by right-wing Republicans over this highly qualified nominee, especially since the current black man on the Court is Clarence Thomas, whose qualifications were minimal.

Sotomayor’s nomination will be confirmed. The Court and the U.S. will survive. And this old lady will die and be forgotten. But, as long as I am still alive, I will examine my memories carefully. What important things have I forgotten?

On the other hand, maybe I would be happier if some memories slipped entirely away.