There are some things we can’t remember about our childhood and some memories that are crystal clear. There are also those moments that were captured on a video and we, after watching that video, adopted the memory as our own, even if we were too young to actually remember the occasion. Or perhaps a story was told so many times that we feel we remember being there.
One memory of mine happened more often than not on Saturday mornings during my childhood. My dad would fire up the griddle, melt some butter, and cook up a big stack of pancakes for my brothers and I. Maple syrup was a must. No substitutes would do.