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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Good for Them!

Minnesota Supreme Court Throws Out Repressed Memory Claim

When I was twelve I had a guy expose himself to me. I was walking my bike around a blind curve and he stopped and motioned for me to come over to the car, a convertible. I thought he wanted directions. It was traumatic! Far from forgetting it, I can remember to this day what the guy looked like, what he was wearing, what he said to me, and what the convertible he was driving looked like. It was burned into my memory.

I always thought repressed memory was a crock and it's good to see a court agreeing.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I agree, Mary Ann. When I was about eleven my grandparents, who had custody of me, let me go to a show with the elevn-year-old boy across the street. It was not a date, but just two friends going to the show together. When we got into the show, later a man, probably in his late thirties, with blond hair sat down on the left of me. The young man I was with was brown-eyed and a blond also. During the show the man started putting his hands where they did not belong, and I kept wigglying out of his way and moving his hand. I had no idea how to handle the situation. I could not believe what was happening. During intermission, the man asked men if I wanted something to eat or drink. I told him, "No!" and he left for the concession stands. My friend then asked me if the man had been bothering me, and I told him yes. That was when he said to me, "Let's go sit down there, and you sit on the isle and I will sit next to you, so he cannot bother you. What a wise and well brought up young boy he turned out to be. I NEVER forgot any of the details because I was scared to death and even afraid of telling the usher. I was afraid that the man would be outside waiting for us, but he was not. I do not believe in any of this repressed memory stuff. That experience is as fresh today in my memory, after about 58 years, as when it happened.

Anonymous said...

I also remember the first and last name of the young boy who got me out of that situation, although I have not seen him in 55 years and am not going to post it, except that his first name was Michael, like the Archangel, and he was brought up Catholic, and I was not then.

Anita Moore said...

When this "repressed memory" stuff was all the rage 20 or 25 years ago, I always wondered why nobody noticed that all the stories sounded substantially the same.