But, frankly, the same item on someone who remembers, or nearly remembers, that decade, has the potential for shades of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
"Things I Didn't Know" is the story of how another Bobby Hughes — or Robbie Huge, as Julian Schnabel nearly remembered him in his memoir — made good.
-- Killing becomes mechanical, clean, nearly sterile (remember the war porn images of missiles blasting through windows in Gulf War 1.0?) Our atrocities -- My Lai in Vietnam is the best known, but there were many more -- are the work of a few bad apples ("This is not who we are as Americans").
The only good thing about this new outbreak is that nearly everyone remembers 2001 and is prepared to act upon the memory, and the swifter the better.
The narrator, while nearly drowning, remembers a night in high school when he slept with the girlfriend of his friend and football teammate.
Nearly everyone remembers singing: You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear, How much I love you Please don't take my sunshine away.
Loughner seems to be an uncomfortably familiar figure; one of those juvenile megalomaniacs with guns, who show up in the news at least once a year for having carried out a mass shooting at a US high school or college, nearly always remembered, as Loughner has been, as "quiet" and "shy".
Nearly two decades later, I remember too little about the ten day-long meeting, except the choking smog, the Chinese government's efforts to muzzle all protest by locating the nongovernmental delegates 20 miles away from the main conference, and of course a twenty-minute speech that made history.
One recent Saturday our waiter rattled off 13, which were nearly impossible to remember.
It's nearly impossible to remember that a 6-foot-1 or 6-foot-2 girl is still a kid.
