Versions of the Story

How many times have we been told to hear the other side of the story? To not jump to conclusions until we have heard all the versions and gathered all the possible facts? How many times as children did we get in trouble and when it came time to give an account, all parties were asked to tell their stories? Many times, I would guess.

The problem arises though, that when we listen to all stories we are left with so many versions. How can we possibly know which really happened or if any of it really happened at all? Does it matter if we find out which is true?

In the opening chapter of The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony we are presented with many different versions of the story of Europa and Zues. These variations probably come from the inaccuracy of oral tradition. Every time a story is retold, details can be lost or added due to the fallibility of the teller’s memory.

An example of a mixing up of the story of Europa and Zeus.

We were asked in our last class to try to recall our earliest memory. I have had difficulty with this, as I have many possible memories and very little idea of their relative time. I have also heard many stories of my early childhood, and now find it difficult to determine which of the images in my head have been imagined to fit a particular story and which are real memories. I may have a few scattered recollections of my family’s move to my childhood home when I was two and these would probably be my earliest memories. But I have also heard many stories about this time, and these pictures could have come from them.

How can I really know? And does it matter? Regardless of where these memories come from, they have become a part of who I am, my history.

"Only Memory Pictures"

There are many treasured pictures

hung on Memory’s wall,

But the scenes of happy childhood

are the fairest ones of all.

I can see the rustic cottage,

the fields of golden grain,

The mill and the old red schoolhouse

beside the shady lane;

I see the roses blooming

in fragrance by the door;

And the little blue-eyed baby

playing on the kitchen floor.

Only Memory’s pictures

that now I recall

From cherished scenes of gladness,

they come to bless us all.

Only the dreams of a childhood,

gone forever more,

Only Memory’s pictures

of those happy days of yore!

I can see my loving mother

smiling on me there,

And the kindly face of father

as his goodnight kiss I share.

By the fireside with her knitting,

is grandma, bent and gray;

And hark! there’s the old clock ticking

the fleeting hours away.

Ah! these are childhood’s visions

that cheer the lonely heart;

Bringing Memory’s sweetest pictures,

that from life can ne’er depart.