For some reason God gave me the ability to remember the strangest things while vast, and potentially important, segments of my life seem to vanish. Maybe it’s just me, but I seem to remember the embarrassing stuff a little more than the good stuff.

For example, I can remember sleeping a little too hard at naptime one day in kindergarten and spending the rest of the day hoping noone would notice my Tuff Skins were a little darker in front than usual.

I can still see my cheese toast breakfast lying in the middle of my third grade classroom and the vermiculite that followed after a particularly rough bus ride one morning.

I can remember my first significant date in the tenth grade nearly coming to an embarrassing and potentially tragic end when I tried to gun it through a wet intersection and skidded wildly, nearly crashing into several cars and a pole.

I can even remember finally getting the chance to be on the field of play late in a high school baseball game and hurling a lazy ground ball from my shortstop position into the parking lot. I can vividly see that ball I so valiantly threw hitting the door of a Camaro when all we needed was one more out to win the game.

Why do our memories do this to us? If it weren’t for videotape, I would have trouble recalling the poignant details of the births of my three children. I think this memory trick is another indication of God’s sense of humor.

I have plenty of good memories, and I’m developing new ones daily, but my brain is capable of holding only so much information. I would prefer to be able to hit a delete button and get some of those more embarrassing recollections out of the way to make room for more of the good ones. Maybe Bill Gates should get to work on that one.

I’m 36 years old. I have a wonderful family, a nice home, and a great job. Why do I have to keep reliving the pain of being told 24 years ago I talked like a girl by the best looking babe in the sixth grade? That's one memory I could live without.

I need more room for my daughters’ recitals and my son’s first bike ride. I would prefer not to have my head clouded with visions of life’s little kicks in the teeth. It would be nice if my stroll down memory lane was a little less bumpy and much more sunny. I want my mind filled with visions of my wife walking down the aisle in her wedding dress and my kids faces when they open their presents on Christmas morning. I don’t need to be cursed with memories of air–balls, unfortunate outbursts, or untimely bodily functions. Life is too short and I need to move on. Is it too much to ask our brains for a little more sunshine and a lot less open flies?