I am a friend of Memories in Music, and this is my blog about music and memories, the daily joy music brings to us, the music that makes us cry and dance and feel happy to be alive, and the remarkable musicians who bring it to us.

I took the title from my favorite author, Mark Twain, who wrote:

“Well, certainly memory is a curious machine and strangely capricious. It has no order, it has no system, it has no notion of values, it is always throwing away gold and hoarding rubbish. Out of that dim old time I have recalled that swarm of wholly trifling facts with care and precision, yet to save my life I can’t get back my mathematics. It vexes me, yet I am aware that everybody’s memory is like that, and that therefore I have no right to complain.
- “Three Thousand Years among the Microbes”

I can’t say this little diary won’t throw away gold and hoard rubbish sometimes, but like Twain it will not contain much mathematics… other than, 1 -2 -3 -4…

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