many in the night

I knew so many people, and as they randomly come before me in the night's memories I wonder  now whether they are still alive, what they are doing, and whatever happened to them.
We remember different things. Some have no rationale. Many however were complete mysteries to me that with the passage of too many years begin to suddenly become clear. Insignificant things, like why did my fifth grade teacher's voice so mock a man while calling him a rugged individualist? I later would find out but how I would have loved to understood it at the time. Building in the...Memoirist