A long-ago boyfriend's brother-in-law came to my booksigning in Pittsburgh and re-introduced himself. (It has been 21 years.) He introduced me to his beautiful daughter and showed me a photograph of the entire family -- him, his daughter, his wife and his son, Jack.

"Do you remember holding him?" he asked me. And I did, immediately. I held him when he was no more than six months old. (He's 21 now, about to start his final year at University of Chicago).

"I tried to find a photo, but we've just moved . . ." But I wouldn't need anyone to find that photo. The moment he spoke, I remembered every detail. I'm on an exercise bike, holding Jack so his baby legs are resting lightly on my thighs. His head is turned toward his uncle, so Jack's expression cannot be seen, but his uncle's mouth is open, clearly mirroring Jack's amazement and awe. His uncle is holding a small quilt that has a countryside scene appliqued to it. I am wearing a navy T-shirt for the Baltimore Opera and a pair of running shorts. My hair is 80s-appalling, but what's a girl to do? It was the 80s, after all.

What the photo can't show is why I'm laughing, and why Jack is looking up at his uncle in curiosity and amazement. While I pedaled the bike, Jack's uncle kept running back and forth with the quilt, so it would appear to Jack that scenery was passing by and the bike was really moving. It was one of those moments where you laugh and laugh, dimly aware that no one else would share your hysteria, but incapable of stopping.

I understand Jack is gong to direct The Importance of Being Earnest this fall. If its audience enjoys it half as much as we enjoyed his imaginary journey, it should be quite a hit.

So -- is there a photograph you can remember in perfect detail, from memory?