We?ve all got them, they all effect us differently, and we in turn remember them differently. For this case, I?m focussing on youthful summer memories. I fondly remember my summer family trips in our cramped car (see figure A), those seemingly unending highways, the hot hot weather, and my brother *bullying / annoying* me. And all the while I kept thinking that, even though we?d been there before, each subsequent time I was less sure that we?d ever arrive. But, the moment we reached our destination at my aunts lake house, nothing else mattered and life was good again. Upon arrival (late at night), my grandmother would always have freshly prepared kielbasa and loads of pierogis waiting for us. She was a Ukranian immigrant who didn?t know what salad was, and I was fine with that, but I digress?