ERASED FROM MEMORY EXCERPT My father has been accused of murder. At least I think he has. The scene is extremely confused. It involves a man outstretched on the floor in the attitude of those chalk outlines the traffic police draw at accident scenes -- head back, arms extended, legs splayed. This man wears a tan cashmere sweater, blue jeans, a Rolex watch. I think he's looking at the ceiling but his face is hidden by my father, who kneels over him. And my father himself is half hidden by a spiky-haired woman wearing a striped T-shsirt and blue warm-up pants; she clutches Daddy's back and screams, "Help! Stop him! Help!" My father has Alzheimer's now, but he didn't used to. He used to be mildly famous in archeology circles. He is a gentle, sweet man who is not murderous. I know he isn't murdering anyone now. I try to pile into the scrimmage on the floor. © Diana O'Hehir